Love and Levity
by KatieBell70
Summary: Not many people bother learning to tell the twins apart. But George Weasley begins to discover that Luna Lovegood is not at all like many people. In fact, she's one of a kind.
1. Chapter 1

**Love and Levity**

_And now, honored guests, I present Mr. and Mrs. William Weasley. _

George Weasley was impressed. How on earth his eldest brother had managed to tie someone like Fleur Delacour to him for life was beyond his comprehension. Of course, Fred would point out--and had, more often than Bill was comfortable with--that meant that Bill had tied himself to someone like Fleur Delacour, and that was bound to grow old eventually. Sure, she was a looker, but she was a lot less fun than a barrel of Cornish pixies. In fact, she rarely laughed unless she was laughing at someone else's expense, or at her own jokes.

What was the point of a girl without a sense of humor, anyway? Even old McGonagall was good for a laugh occasionally, though you had to listen very carefully. George tended to listen carefully to everything; you never knew when you would find something useful. He may have rarely turned in his assignments while at school, but by listening carefully, he and Fred had managed to learn everything they needed to entertain the masses. Even History of Magic had come in handy, hadn't it? They might never have been able to manufacture U-No-Poo if George had not remembered that Plegmund the Putrid had nearly died of extreme constipation when he had inadvertently ingested armadillo bile combined with hellebore.

He was squatting at the edge of the copse behind the Burrow, in the process of setting the timers on a neat row of fireworks. He and his twin had really outdone themselves on these. Most of them would just cause gasps of amazement from the audience, but the last two were certain to result in more than a few giggles and blushes, and possibly a sound beating from their mother. Fred, of course, had disappeared just as it was time to set up the fireworks. George didn't expect any better from him, particularly because he had managed to convince Angelina to break training in order to attend the wedding. Now Angelina, _there_ was a girl with a sense of humor. Damn fine Chaser, too. Fred would be sure to get somewhere this time. He had actually taken dance lessons this year, just to be able to sweep her off her feet. And who had had to dance with Fred for hours on end in the last month, in order to give him more practice? Yes, the long-suffering twin, who was currently doing all of the work to make sure these fireworks went off at just the right moment. Fred was very good at coming up with the brilliant ideas, but then he tended to leave George to handle all the finer details. Which didn't bother George, really. Much.

It was just that he was missing out on all the fun. It was dull back here with no one to talk to. He was losing countless opportunities to torture 'ickle Ronnikins' about the passionate scene that George and his partner in crime had interrupted in the attic this afternoon. And they really had not taken full advantage of the opportunity to put the fear of painful death into Harry for having laid his hands on--and then chucked--their baby sister. (The wistful glances the 'Boy Who Lived' kept throwing in Ginny's direction appeared to be painful enough, though.) And then there was Percy, who had been 'guilted' into attending the wedding by a menacing visit from all five of his brothers. George knew that he had promised his mother to take it easy on the pompous prat, but it would be far too easy to slip a large dose of Euphoria Elixir in his punch. Percy'd be singing and dancing on the table by the end of the night, and his Mum would merely assume he'd had too much to drink.

A tranquil voice came from behind George and interrupted his reverie. "Have you protected those rockets from Winged Greebies?"

"What?" He turned to look at the young woman over his shoulder, baffled.

"Winged Greebies," she repeated. "They are attracted to the smell of strontium carbonate."

"Huh?" George wondered for a moment if she was speaking to another person entirely.

"Well, I assume that some of your fireworks are going to be red?" she asked.

"Yes, of course," was his reply.

"Well, strontium carbonate is like an aphrodisiac to them,"

"Oh."

"So you'd better make sure they haven't got to your rockets."

"What would happen?" he asked, intrigued.  
"Well, all the red would be gone, wouldn't it?" she said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, I reckon it would." George smiled. For some reason, she was beginning to make sense.

She walked around to stand in front of him, with the rockets in between them and asked, "Do you want me to check?"

"Sure, okay, why not?"

With a wave of her wand, the rockets glowed purple, sending George into a panic. But nothing else happened, and Luna smiled serenely, saying, "They're fine. Go ahead and finish."

"Right. Then. Uh, thanks, Luna."

"Oh, you're very welcome, George. I can't wait to see them. The ones you did two years ago were really interesting. Are these ones going to mate, too? That was my favorite part. I don't think Professor Umbridge liked them very much though. Do you think she was worried that they would attract Combustadons?"

"Attract _whats_?"

"Combustadons," she explained. "They feed on fireworks, and if they had gotten into the castle it would have been really hard to get them out."

"Oh, yeah. Could be." Again, it seemed to make some strange sort of sense, but she was seriously distracting him from his task. He thought he'd better distract her in return if he was ever going to finish. "So, why aren't you over there dancing, Luna?"

"Oh, I've never danced. Well, anyway, not with a partner," she said.

This was a little surprising to George. She seemed to him to be the sort of girl who would dance often, and not always at appropriate times or places. "Really? Haven't you ever learned?"

Her voice was oddly detached as she replied, "Oh, I know how. Nobody has ever asked me."

George found himself saying, "Hmm, I'll tell you what: why don't you go back down and get a glass of punch, and I'll find you before the fireworks go off and we'll dance together."

"Really?" Her face lit up. "I'd love to dance with you, George! Padma Patil said that your brother Fred was a very bad dancer and that your brother Ronald wouldn't dance at all, but she never said anything bad about how _you_ dance. Will it be a fast song or a slow one?"

George suppressed a laugh and said gently, "Why don't _you _pick which one you prefer?"

"That's very nice of you. I'll see you in a few minutes, George, and by then I will have decided which one I like best."

"I'll see you soon, then." He watched her walk away for a moment, then returned his attention to the rockets. Suddenly, he noticed her spangled silver robes out of the corner of his eye. She had come back. He looked up.

"You were being serious weren't you, George?" she asked.

He wondered what he had done wrong. "What?"

That odd, detached note had returned to her voice. "Well, some boys might think it funny to leave me there waiting for you all night. But even though you like to joke, I don't think you are that kind of boy."

He controlled the urge to squirm, and wondered if he was capable of doing that to a girl. "No, Luna. I want to dance with you."

"Oh, that's nice." She glided away.

After she left, George racked his brain, trying to come up with everything he had ever known about Luna Lovegood. Ron had told him that Luna was one of the first students to publicly defend Harry back when the Ministry had tried to vilify him. He knew that she had been a member of the D.A., and he had watched her challenge Hermione at the first D.A. meeting. That had impressed him, but Fred had kept going on about how bizarre she was. George also knew that her father published Harry's interview at her suggestion, and he liked her for that, too, although Fred downplayed that by making jokes about the _other_ articles that _The Quibbler_ had printed that week. George also remembered that she had been one of the kids who went with Harry to the Department of Mysteries that disastrous night, and according to Ginny she had fought well and not been badly injured.

So he was disposed treat her with kindness and respect, even though others tended to think she was nuttier than a fruitcake. After all, there were many people who thought that _Dumbledore_ was nuttier than a fruitcake, and he certainly had deserved respect.

It had occurred to George after a DA meeting last year that he ought to point her out to Ron as a really fun girl to get his mind off Hermione, but he didn't think that Ron would have appreciated the suggestion; he was too thick to comprehend her odd humor, anyway. George thought that Luna could have been good for Ron - she was everything that Hermione wasn't: relaxed, funny, and never remotely critical. There was something really pretty about those strange, almost unearthly eyes of hers, too. But Ron was a hopeless case. He never could seem to see past Hermione, and when he finally did, it was only to swap spit with the biggest bimbo that he could find. Now that _Lavender_ bird had no sense of humor whatsoever. Ron really was clueless, wasn't he? But he came around in the end, and by the look of things in that attic this afternoon, Hermione might have been _worth_ all of Ron's agony.

Finally, George finished his task and reflected that he had a good thirty minutes before the rockets went off. With any luck, it would happen just as they were cutting the cake. He wandered back to the dance floor that had been set up next to the pond and his eyes scanned the throng of dancing couples. There were his parents, his mother looking at his father as if he was a great big piece of treacle tart. His father, in turn, looked as if he was about to be run over by the Knight Bus. George said a silent prayer that he would not be facing the prospect of another sibling before the summer was out. Then there were Bill and Fleur, snogging happily, enjoying one of the few times in life when public displays of affection were not only tolerated but encouraged. He thought the odds of a niece or nephew making an appearance by Valentine's Day were well worth wagering on. Stupid Weasley fertility. He saw his youngest brother looking dazed and goofy, while 'little miss uptight prefect' surreptitiously grabbed his arse. Maybe Ron wasn't so thick after all.

He saw Fred swaying with Angelina while she grinned down at him. (Down, because she was wearing high heels and happened to be built like an Amazon queen.) And _damn _that annoying twin telepathy they shared. He knew precisely what Fred was imagining doing to Angelina, and by the look of it, she seemed completely keen on his ideas. He wondered if Fred had somehow managed to spike the punch with an aphrodisiac.

There was Charlie dancing with Ginny, while Harry tried unsuccessfully to pretend that he wasn't watching them. Fleur's little sister, Gabrielle, watched Harry with nearly the same look of longing that Harry kept throwing at George's baby sister.

He finally spotted Luna, sitting at a table and staring at his mother's best hydrangea bush, which had been specially imported from its usual place by the front door.

"What are you looking at?" he asked.

"Oh, that's a hydrangea bush."

"That I know. I thought maybe there were some…Crumple-Horned Snorkacks in it or something."

She turned to him with wide eyes. "They only live in Sweden, George."

He felt the tips of his ears going pink. "So, are you ready to dance, then, Luna?"

"Oh, no, not _this_ song, I think. It seems to be causing everybody on the dance floor to look at each other oddly. It is entirely possible that there are subliminal messages hidden in the notes. I think perhaps we'd better wait for the next one."

George grinned. "I reckon you're right. Best be safe, hadn't we?" He seated himself across the table from her and watched the fireflies that were reflected in the pond.

The next song seemed to meet with Luna's approval, and he led her out to the edge of the crowded dance floor, holding her a reasonable distance away and setting the pace. After a few moments, she said, "This really is much nicer with another person."

"What is?" he asked, looking down to meet her eyes.

"Dancing."

"Oh, yeah, it is, isn't it?" That earlier mental picture of her, dancing alone, returned.

"It's also nice to hear you using complete sentences."

"What?" Her statement struck him as odd. He had a mental picture of Gregory Goyle grunting out one-word answers, while George had always considered himself rather garrulous, if anything.

"Well, usually you and your brother Fred share sentences, and he starts them. I like hearing what you think by yourself."

He found himself grinning. "Thanks, Luna."

"You're welcome."

George decided to indulge his curiosity. "Uh, Luna, listen, can I ask you something?"

"Yes, of course, George," she said, gazing up at him expectantly.

"How did you know that it was _me_ earlier?"

"Do you mean near the rockets? Oh, that was easy."

"Because you saw Fred with Angelina and I was the one left over?" he asked.

"Oh, no! It was because you are the twin who _would_ be working on the fireworks alone. You are always the one to, well, take care of the details."

He felt a flush of some strange, indefinable emotion come over him. "How would you have noticed that, Luna?" he asked quietly.

"I notice lots of things. You see, I have very few friends, so I like to study people in my spare time to see if I can spot things that other people don't notice. For example, Fred always starts and you always finish."

"Fred starts what?"

"Just about everything."

"But how can you tell us apart to know who does what? Our own mother has trouble," he pointed out.

She looked at him gravely and said, "Oh, but you're _very_ different. You have six freckles on your nose and Fred has eight. And you have a slight cowlick - it's nice. And Fred cracks his knuckles when he's nervous, but you bite your thumbnail. Oh, and your hair is a little darker. Not much, but enough to notice. And he tends to face people on their right hand, and you gravitate towards the left hand."

George didn't know whether to be flattered or unnerved that she had obviously spent so much time watching them. He was beginning to lean toward unnerved--she was just a kid, the same age as his baby sister, after all, and clearly very odd-- when she finished her list.

"Oh, and you're the nicer one."

"The nicer one?" he asked.

"Yes. I mean, you're both nice, especially when you are not being cruel. But you're just a little bit kinder."

"Oh." The odd wave of elation that he felt at being called 'kind' dissipated as the word 'cruel' registered. "Are we cruel?"

She considered his question and replied, "Only to people who deserve it, I think. I mean, it was cruel to order Peeves to torment Professor Umbridge and to call her an old bat in front of her students. But I don't think it was wrong, because _she_ was cruel to others. And I think sometimes I heard you being cruel to your brother Percy, but he was cruel to your mother, according to Ginny, so I suppose he deserved it, too. And the house-elves told me you were always very kind and appreciative to them, even though most people aren't. And Padma Patil told Ginny and me one time that she saw you throwing snowballs at a very nervous professor. She thought it was cruel, but Ginny said that professor had He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's face sticking out of the back of his head, so he deserved it, I suppose."

"How do you remember things like that, Luna?" he asked incredulously.

She positively beamed as she answered, "Well, I thought it was really funny that you may have hit He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in the face with a snowball without meaning to."

George laughed heartily at that thought and wondered why it had never occurred to him before. As he continued to chuckle, he met his twin's bemused look over the top of Luna's head and threw him a challenging glare. He knew he was going to find himself tortured tonight over his choice of dance partner.

The song ended shortly after that, and Luna pulled away, fixing him with her eerie gaze. "Thank you, George. I'm very glad that you were my first dance partner. I always assumed it would be Neville, which would have been very pleasant, but I suspect he might have stepped on my toes once or twice."

They stood on the edge of the dance floor, just as the next song started up, half a meter apart. He found himself saying, "I saw you and Neville sitting together at…the funeral. Is he your boyfriend?"

She considered this for a moment. "He is my friend. I suspected for a few days last year that he might fancy me, but when I kissed him under the mistletoe, he was a little horrified. It didn't feel like I thought it would, but I don't think that it was Neville's fault. Maybe I'm bad at it. It was my first kiss, after all. Or it could be that I had halitosis. Or I might have had a Nargle in my hair."

"I reckon it was the Nargle," George said with a grin. "I'll bet your next one will go better."

"I hope so." She began to turn away

"Err, Luna? D'you want to dance again?" he asked, not quite ready for their unusual conversation to end.

Luna smiled serenely and shook her head. "I don't think so. You probably ought to dance with your mother now. She's alone and it would make her happy, and she would probably say no if you ask her to dance _after_ the fireworks went off."

George laughed and turned to follow her advice. It did, in fact, make his mother very happy, especially because his father was next to them, dancing with Ginny. It was the first time that the entire family had been together in several years. Even though Percy was clearly uncomfortable and Bill's new wife was more than a little annoying and every one of those ruddy clock hands still pointed to 'mortal peril', George knew that his mum would look upon it as one of the best days of her life.

Some time later, after a dance with Hermione, (just to piss off Ronnikins) then George's own dance with Ginny followed by a teasing conversation with Charlie about the inadvisability of flirting with a werewolf's girl, the air began to fill with the whistles and bangs of fireworks. Fred sidled up next to George, clapping a hand over his shoulder, and together they basked in the wonder and appreciation of the crowd. 'Oohs' and 'ahs' eventually became shrieks of laughter and embarrassed giggles, and right about the time that George heard his mother's "Fred and George Weasley! I am going to murder both of you!" he found himself seeking out an otherworldly face in the crowd. When his eyes met hers and she gave him a solemn wink, he laughed out loud.

_To be continued_

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_**A/N: For the record, I think that it is not too large an assumption that the Weasleys would invite their neighbors to Bill's wedding, and the Lovegoods were mentioned as living nearby in GOF.**_

_**My deepest gratitude goes to Mizaya, my Checkmated beta, who is amazingly thorough.**_

_**I would like to thank knutjob (brilliant name), who helped me with names for Luna's imaginary creatures. So: Cumbustadons and Winged Greebies were all hers.**_

_**Thanks also to Doraemon, who kindly looked up info about fireworks.**_

_**And, of course, many thanks to Vaughn for the original beta work. Great job as usual!**_

_**The plot bunny for this story came to me in a dream. I expect it will be around five chapters.**_

_**Please let me know what you think!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

George Weasley walked along Diagon Alley, whistling. On any normal summer day, the sound would have been drowned out by the bustle of hundreds of wizards and witches, carrying on with their shopping. On this particular day, though, his whistle pierced the unnerving silence of the street, causing one or two frightened-looking cloaked figures to look toward him suspiciously.

If the proof given last summer of the return of Voldemort hadn't been enough to keep people indoors, the shocking death of Albus Dumbledore on the grounds of the school that he had protected so powerfully was enough to convince them to only venture outside in the direst of circumstances.

For all of those reasons, Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes ought to have gone out of business long ago, and would have, like so many of their neighbors, were it not for their thriving mail order service. People were bored, after all, cooped up in their homes. Plus, the other end of their business, the serious one, had long ago surpassed the volume of the original, due also to the events of the past spring and summer.

Verity had been burning the candle on both ends, trying to keep up with the masses of owl orders. George had been running himself ragged in the manufacture of product with the help of his twin, and occasionally even the generous assistance of Lee Jordan, who was busy enough in an internship at Quidditch Weekly.

The main trouble, besides the obvious need for another full-time employee, was that their catalogue had been thrown together in a hurry and designed to appeal mostly to Hogwarts students. It had been added to many times over the past few years, the pages of new products tacked haphazardly onto the back of the catalogue. Now that adults were beginning to order by owl more often than not, the catalogue was in need of a serious overhaul, as were their order forms. They also needed to design a separate catalogue for their defense products - something that would convince customers to take them seriously. Fred had always been the brother who designed their advertising. But he seemed to be having trouble concentrating on the projects long enough to make any progress, let alone be creative. Today, he had finally admitted to George that he was at a loss.

George, however, was not at all convinced that he could do any better. The fact was, neither one of them was creative in that way. All of their previous attempts seemed now to be juvenile and amateurish. So George found himself looking for help. Specifically, help in the form of a book.

He entered Flourish and Blotts with trepidation. He had cheerfully assumed that he would never again enter the premises after leaving Hogwarts. For a few moments, he wandered around aimlessly, wondering in which section he would find a book that gave instructions for designing catalogues and writing good copy. So far he was having no luck, and clerks were nowhere to be found. Customers were scarce, also, which was disquieting, to say the least.

George thought back to a previous visit, right about this time of year, when the store, even magically expanded, had been bursting at the seams with students, parents, and lonely middle-aged single witches hoping to get a glimpse of the gloriously-coifed Gilderoy Lockhart. That had been a particularly memorable visit, because he'd had the pleasure of watching his mild-mannered father launch himself, fists swinging, at Lucius Malfoy. As far as George was concerned, it was Arthur Weasley's finest hour. Well, not to discount the momentous occasion when he had helped to conceive the two cleverest, handsomest and best-humored young wizards that the world had yet seen, but that was something George tried not to think about in too much detail.

He spotted a wizened old warlock perusing the curse-breaking section and muttering to himself. He wondered if the poor old bloke was searching for a remedy for the rancid smell that followed him around, but he suspected that it was more likely a result of failure to wash his robes and body than a curse. But perhaps inability to achieve basic personal hygiene _was _the curse. George thought fondly of the battles that his mother had been forced to wage in order to convince Fred and him to get into the bathtub. He remembered, with amusement and a little disgust, the two-week period when his Mum had declared that they were free to smell as bad as they wanted, that she was no longer going to bother trying to wash them. In the end, when nobody in the family would eat with them and, more importantly, every person whom they had tried to prank could smell them coming a mile away, they agreed between themselves that baths were not so bad after all. Baths were, as a matter of fact, the perfect opportunity to discover how much water they could transfer from the tub to the floor, walls, and linens of the bathroom, not to mention their mother, or Bill, or whoever else happened to be bathing them.

Eventually the warlock's odor got to be too much for George and he determined to move to another part of the shop altogether. As he crossed the center lounge, heading for the stairs, he nearly missed spotting the young witch with ash-blonde hair curled up in a chair, her head only just peeking out over the top of a book. He absentmindedly scanned the title as he passed: _My Life with Quigloots; An Eyewitness Account of a Year's Study of These Misunderstood and Often Dismissed Creatures._

He stopped in his tracks, experiencing a blinding flash of recognition and an odd twinge in his gut that he didn't really want to think about too much. "Luna!" he said brightly.

A familiar pair of solemn misty eyes popped over the top of the book, their corners crinkling into a smile as they landed on him. "Oh, hello, George, how are you?"

He turned around and made his way to the chair opposite her. "Great. What're you doing here?"

"Reading a book," she replied, lowering the book onto her lap.

He laughed, making a mental note never to ask Luna an obvious question, or perhaps _always_ to ask her obvious questions, because he enjoyed the expression on her face when she answered. "No, I meant…well, not many parents are letting their kids come to the Alley alone these days."

"Oh, my father is at his office, just down the street. He sometimes lets me stay here while he works. He doesn't want me to be at home alone."

"Yeah, I reckon he wouldn't. Hey, I just saw an article he wrote last week on the Ministry's Emergency Floo Monitoring Act. It was pretty wicked."

She beamed. "Actually, that was _my_ article. He just signed his name because he didn't think anyone would take something written by a sixteen-year-old seriously."

_"You_ wrote that?" he asked, his mouth agape.

"Yes, George. Sometimes Dad lets me write an article for him."

"Blimey!" His respect for people who knew how to put words together well had been growing steadily as he tackled the catalogue project.

"So, what are you doing in here, George? I didn't think you would have very much time or patience for reading. Are you buying a Quidditch magazine?"

_She nailed that one._ "No, actually, I'm looking for something for the shop."

"You mean…" and here her voice drifted off into an odd little singsong, "Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes? I heard that it is a very interesting place."

"You haven't been in yet?"

She seemed to think this was very funny. "George, I certainly would have taken the time to say hello to _you_ if I had." She sighed a little, adding, "My father hasn't had enough spare time to take me, with all of the fantastic rumors flying about--which of course, he needs to report on. And I am not supposed to leave this book shop by myself."

George found himself strangely curious to hear her opinion of his shop. He said, "Oh, that's too bad. I hope I'll see you in there someday."

Luna suddenly looked at him with wide eyes and a dawning smile. "_You _could take me, George."

"I could?" he asked.

Her face fell, slightly. "But then you would have to bring me back again later, and I am sure that you are very busy."  
He reassured her, "Oh, no, I wouldn't mind. Let me just…I'll look for the books I need for a bit, then we can go."

"I'll be waiting, George."

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After about half an hour of searching, George found three books that he thought would help and, once again, wished ardently that he could have called on Hermione for advice. She had really come in handy on those rare occasions at school when he had trouble working through a troublesome homework problem, though he never would have admitted it to either Ron or Fred. However, Hermione and his idiot youngest brother had disappeared two days after the wedding, leaving nothing but a short letter for his panicked mother saying that they needed to follow Harry on a quest of some sort. Since then, the Weasley family had only received a few vague notes, assuring them of the Golden Trio's immediate safety. George tried not to think too much about the trouble that his impetuous baby brother might get himself into, but he found himself grateful that Hermione would be there to ground him in reality and that Harry would be there to watch his back.

Once his purchases had been made, George approached Luna's chair, calling out her name softly. She looked up eagerly. "Oh, hello, George. Are you ready to take me to Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes?"

With a nod and a friendly smile, he led her to the door, holding it open and following her down the street. George noticed that her book bag was positively bursting at the seams, and he wondered if he should offer to carry it for her. He would have done the same for Ginny, after all, but somehow it seemed like too much of a gallant gesture for the circumstances. He didn't want to give her the wrong idea. The way that she walked, however led him to believe that she didn't find it too heavy to carry - in fact, she seemed to be almost drifting along with the breeze. As he wrestled with these thoughts, the silence stretched on, punctuated regularly by the soft clop of her wooden sandals. He looked over to find her humming happily and grasped for an innocuous way to restart the conversation. "Have you had a good summer, Luna?"

"Not really," she said gravely. "I've spent most of my time at the book store or at my father's office. I would really much rather be at home - there's lots more to do there - but Dad thinks that because…well, a lot of Death Eaters have seen me, you know, fighting them…well, anyway he thinks that I am in particular danger."

The thought caused a chill to wash over George, and an uncomfortable tightness settled into his stomach. It was one thing to know that his family was in danger. At least they all had each other and the Order to back them up. Here, however, were two people alone, vulnerable. He didn't know what to say to reassure her. "Our mum was protective in the same way, even after we came of age. Ginny says she's even worse now. After what happened to Bill, and now with Ron…," he broke off.

She spun to face him, reaching out to touch his arm. "What happened to Ronald?"

"Oh, he's okay. Or at least I _think_ he is, anyway. He just upped and left. Mum couldn't stop him - he was of age - but she would have tried if she had gotten the chance. Now she won't hardly let Ginny out of her sight."

"Is he coming back to school?"

She seemed particularly concerned about his youngest brother, and George wondered if there might be something lurking there underneath Luna's placid exterior. He replied cautiously. "I doubt it, from what I can tell."

"Do you know where he went?"

He reckoned that Luna had earned the right to information by her continued loyalty. "I have some ideas. I know it has something to do with Harry; they're trying to help him to do something."

"So Hermione Granger is with them, then?" It was more of a statement, and she nodded soberly as she said it.

"Yes," he said, wondering if this fact would hurt her feelings.

She exhaled, observing, "It must be very important, then, whatever it is."

"I reckon so," he replied, then asked, "Will your father let you go back to school?"

"We are discussing it," she said vaguely, but her face held an air of determination.

"He doesn't want you to?"

"No, but I will be of age in only a few months, and I think it unfair that it is _his_ choice to decide about the whole year, and _my_ future with it."

George nodded, remembering how it felt when his mother tried to interfere with his plans, particularly in regard to the Order. He asked, "How'd you do on your O.W.L.s?"

"Not as well as I had hoped," she sighed.

He smiled encouragingly, saying, "Oh yeah? Don't worry, you couldn't have done worse than I did. I only got three."

Her eyes widened. "Only _three_ 'Outstandings'?"

"Oh, no," he said, and felt his ears going red. "Two 'Fairs' and an 'Exceeds Expectations'."

She blinked. "Oh. I suppose I _do_ feel better, then."

George continued, shrugging somewhat sheepishly, "Well, I reckoned I'd never be able to top Percy, anyway, not to mention Bill and Charlie, so what was the point? Didn't have an academic career in mind, anyway, although now I wish I'd taken some courses that would have taught me about running a business. Some of it is a little too much like schoolwork, you know?"

"Yes, I know," she replied. Luna was listening intently, but her eyes and occasionally her feet kept wandering back and forth across the Alley, looking at the shop windows. George felt that the other shopkeepers were making a mistake by lowering the standards of their window displays, but they still seemed to be eye-catching enough to distract Luna.

Finally, they approached number ninety-three and George said, with a note of pride in his voice, "Well, here we are, Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes."

Her eyes lit up in wonder and she exclaimed, "Ooh, its so colorful, George!"

He stepped forward to open the door for her and she entered with wide eyes and a delighted smile. "Oh it's lovely, George. I don't know what to look at first."

George was reminded of a book that his mother used to read to Ginny at night about a girl who fell into a rabbit hole and discovered a strange and wonderful world within. George had made a habit of sneaking into the hall outside his sister's doorway in order to listen to the story without being discovered. He found himself recalling the description of the story's heroine and imagined that she must have looked a lot like Luna did at that moment. An irritated voice interrupted his flight of fancy.

"Oi, George, where the hell have you been?" He turned to find a harried Fred, wrapping parcels like a house-elf who had been given too much coffee. "We've just got an order for fifty Shield Cloaks from the Dark Forces Defense League. You'd think that a Defense League would know how to throw a ruddy Shield Charm by themselves, but I'm not going to turn down the Galleons."

Luna's serene voice interrupted Fred's rant. "The Dark Force Defense League is a very nice group of grandmothers in Dorset."

"What?" Two identical red heads whipped toward their visitor, as did another, which sported short blonde hair.

Luna continued, "Oh, yes, they get together to play bridge, and then they are supposed to have a discussion of defense techniques. However," Luna giggled and went on, "_that_ part of the meeting usually get sidetracked by gossip and an exchange of recipes."

Fred sputtered incredulously, "But Lockhart…honorary member…he made such a big deal about that!"

"Oh goodness, yes," Luna said. "They liked Professor Lockhart a lot. He's rather handsome, you know. He used to go and speak at their meetings every six months or so, according to Gladys Gudgeon. She is the head of the club."

George let out a big guffaw, and Fred looked at Luna suspiciously, asking, " How do you know this?"

"My father has spoken there every second month for about five years. In fact, just last week he gave them a workshop about protecting against Wrackspurts. They're really very nice. The Defense League that is, not Wrackspurts; they're horrid. One of them - the old ladies, that is - made me these earrings." She pointed toward her ears, which were currently adorned with a pair of dangling objects that resembled kumquats. "She has a small orchard and vegetable garden, and she petrifies a small part of the crops, creating jewelry from it. She even gave me a pair of radish earrings for my birthday three years ago."

Verity stared at Luna's earrings, clearly torn between puzzlement and the urge to laugh, making George feel strangely protective of Luna. He said, "Fred, Verity, Luna here has never seen the shop so I'm gonna give her a quick tour. Then while she's looking around by herself, I'll help you wrap up that order, then I'll get started on the catalogue. I'm going to walk her back when she's ready to leave." When Fred started to object to George's second desertion of the shop, George replied pointedly, "Luna, in case you've forgotten, has fought Death Eaters _in person_ on _two_ occasions in the last two years, which is more than any of us three can say for ourselves. And it's not safe for her to walk back on her own. Would you let Ginny do it?"

Luna interrupted. "I can look around the shop later. Why don't I help you get that order finished?" George started to object, but Verity was no fool. She thrust a Shield Cloak into Luna's hands, and Luna proceeded to wrap it up using the exact same method that the other two had been using earlier. She placed it in the enormous box, smiling serenely and said to George, "I _did _tell you that I tend to notice things, didn't I?"

Fred grinned excitedly, meeting his twin's eyes, and the foursome made quick work of the rest of the order. Afterward, Luna asked George, "Why do you need to work on your catalogue? I would love to see it, if you don't mind. My father's first job was writing catalogues, so he tends to collect them as a hobby. I wonder why he never managed to get a copy of yours?"

George objected. "No, first a tour, as promised, Luna." He took her around the small shop, showing her the various sections and pointing out a few objects that he was particularly proud of. She asked intelligent and sometimes very strange questions, and George found himself appreciating her unique sense of humor all over again. After a few minutes, he reminded himself that he really had a lot of work to do and left her looking around the defense section. George returned wearily to the open catalogue in his desk in the tiny office at the back of the shop. He sighed over the project, opening up the first of the books he had purchased and rubbing the back of his neck in exasperation.

About an hour later, Luna glided into the room, saying, "Oh, there you are, George. I wondered where you'd got to. What are you doing?"

"Trying to rewrite this catalogue, Luna. We've grown past it."

"Oh, that's nice," she said, and he looked up at her in confusion.

"Nice?" he asked.

"It's good that your business has grown, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah…"

"You've been out of school for less than a year and a half and you've already put your old joke shop out of business."

He was having trouble following her line of reasoning. "My old joke shop?"

"Zonkos. I was told that it was your second home."

"Oh, yeah, I reckon it was."

"I was really very sorry to see you leave school," she said in an absent tone, looking around the office curiously.

"You were?" Considering that he could only recall seeing her at D.A. meetings while at school, he was surprised to hear this.

"Oh, yes. It was a lot of fun to watch you and your brother Fred. You were nearly always smiling or laughing. And I must say, your _exit _was very interesting, too."

As this was a point of particular pride, he agreed. "Yeah, I reckon it was."

"People tried to make up for your absence with pranks, but it wasn't anywhere near as good."

"No?" He had heard that the school had basically descended into chaos soon after his departure.

"_I_ even tried to make more jokes, but nobody really got them," she said sadly.

In an attempt to make her feel better, he said, "Oh - well, I reckon not everybody is smart enough to get your jokes, are they, Luna?"

"Or maybe they're just not as funny to everyone else as they are to me. May I look at your catalogue, George?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess so."

She walked around to lean over his shoulder, and George could feel the warmth of her breath near his ear. To his surprise and dismay, he felt the hair at the back of his neck prickle and the tips of his ears begin to heat up. He tried to scoot away from her, but in the process, one of her long wavy locks of hair spilled over his shoulder and onto the desk in front of him. He stared at it, mesmerized, until she reached around him to turn the page, brushing her arm against his shoulder. He moved aside quickly. "Listen, Luna, I have to go down and restock those cloaks. I don't think I am going to get anywhere tonight with this ruddy catalogue, so I'd better get going on something else."

With a nod, she sat down in his recently vacated chair, then looked up at him with a luminous smile. "This is really quite fascinating, George. Do you mind if I make a few notes?"

He felt rather desperate to leave the room. "Err, no. I reckon not."

"I'll see you in a while then."

"Okay."

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The shop was due to close in about fifteen minutes when Luna emerged into it once more. George looked up to find her carrying the catalogue with a large number of parchment scraps sticking out the top of it. She called out, "George, I was wondering. Would you mind very much if I took this home with me? I have some ideas that I think would make it look better and possibly function better."

George grinned, experiencing a great wave of relief. He would have felt a little uncomfortable _asking_ her for help, but she seemed to be volunteering. He said delightedly, "Would I _mind?_ I could positively kiss…"

He broke off. _That won't do at all, you ruddy perv_. "Well, anyway, feel free." He looked over to find Verity eyeing him inquisitively. Fred, luckily for George, was not in the room. Luna walked over to tuck the catalogue carefully into her already bulging book bag. He was about to offer to walk her back when the bell on the door went off, quacking like a duck rather than jingling. Lee Jordan walked in, a few locks of his dreadlocked hair the only part of him visible behind the large box he was struggling with.

"Oi! Got twenty boxes of Canary Creams and fifteen cases of Peruvian Darkness Powder with the Anti-Dark Mark security measures added," he called out cheerfully.

"Blimey, Lee, you are a true mate. How can we ever thank you?"

Lee grinned. "Buy me a pint at the Leaky, George. I'm in dire need of a night of drinking and debauchery. Oh, excuse me, Verity…and, um…Miss?"

George stepped forward quickly, taking the box from Lee's arms and setting it on the worktop. "You remember Luna, Lee. She's from the D.A."

"Luna…oh I think I remember…wow, you've grown up some!" Lee walked to her, smiling broadly and holding out his hand. Halfway there he stopped. "Hey, you're Lovegood, aren't you? I've been hearing about you."

Luna's eyes were enormous. "You have?"

"Yeah, I heard that you gave the best Quidditch commentary Hogwarts has ever heard!" He shook her hand enthusiastically.

Her mouth seemed to hit the floor. _"I did?_ Who on earth would have said that?"

"Lots of people. But my cousin Robbie wrote me a letter the next day with a near transcript of it. Bloody brilliant, you were! Wish I could have seen old McG's face."

Luna blushed. "I thought I was _awful_. She didn't invite me back."

With a hearty laugh, Lee finally released the hand that he had been holding, patting Luna on the arm. "Not much of a sense of humor, that one. But she's okay most of the time."

Lee sat down next to Luna, beginning an easy conversation about Quidditch and then moving seamlessly to the daily routine of working at newspapers and magazines. George had seen Lee chatting up many a girl in his life, but he had never before found it as disquieting as he did at that moment. He told himself that he felt protective toward the young Ravenclaw, seeing as she was the same age as his sister, but then wondered why he had never felt these sorts of feelings toward Dean Thomas or Michael Corner. He looked away from them, trying to think of something he could do to distract himself, when he caught Verity giving Luna a look of deepest loathing. Taken aback, he watched his clerk for a moment, until she sensed him and turned to meet his eyes. Her pale face became bright red and she looked away, grabbing handfuls of powder packets from the box that Lee brought in and stuffing them angrily onto a nearby shelf.

At this point, Fred entered the room, distracting Lee and Luna. After greeting his old friend and thanking him profusely for the work he had been doing in his parent's basement, Fred agreed to close the shop a little early and walk Lee over to the pub at the entrance to the Alley. George reminded them that he had to take Luna back to the bookstore in the opposite direction, and after a little cajoling from Lee and Fred, Verity agreed to join them at the pub. Fred changed the doorway sign from 'Open' to 'Closed,' Verity reconciled the cash register against the receipts, and George put away the merchandise that needed to be locked up. As Fred and George headed upstairs to quickly change into casual clothes, George pulled his twin out of earshot and said, "You, my lesser half, owe me ten Galleons."

"I most certainly do not." Fred said confidently.

George grinned, relishing his victory over his brother. "Yes you do. You were completely and utterly _wrong_ about Verity. She is _not,_ as you were so determined to believe, secretly lusting after your sorry arse."

Fred disagreed vehemently. "Oh yes she is!"

"No she is not, and I have proof." That took the smile off Fred's smug face.

"Just because you managed to cop a feel, little brother, does not mean that she does not prefer me. She has just sadly accepted the fact that my heart belongs to Angie."

George protested, "I did not cop a feel. And I _never_ said that I thought she preferred me to you. I simply said that she doesn't fancy _you!"_

Fred's curiosity won over. "So, who _does_ she fancy?"

"The third twin, my brother."

"What?"

"Oh yes, I just caught her throwing daggers at Miss Lovegood."

"But why…you don't mean Lee and…Loony?"

This annoyed George, somehow. "No, I don't think so. But Verity sure as hell didn't like Lee talking to her."

Fred argued, "You're imagining things. I think _you've _decided to take a fancy to little Luna yourself and you're projecting your _own_ jealousy onto poor Verity, who wants nothing more than to shag _me _senseless."

"You already are senseless, especially if you think that I fancy little girls! I say let's double the bet. I _guarantee_ that our very fit and fanciable Miss Verity and our best mate Lee will be exchanging some sort of bodily fluids by the end of the night."

Fred grinned maniacally, admonishing his brother with a wagging index finger, "No Wonder Witch products, dear brother."

George assumed his most innocent expression. "No enhancements of any kind, I solemnly swear!"

Fred held out his hand for their secret shake. "Deal. And you _do_ fancy little girls. Or one of them, anyway."

_"Do not, _you wanker!"

"Telepathy, my dear twin, telepathy."

"You've got your signals crossed, then."

"Liar."

"Git."

"Shall we?"

"Let's."

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George walked with Luna down the cobbled alley, a little unnerved by his twin's teasing remarks. Luna walked beside him, humming a song which sounded suspiciously like 'Weasley is our King.'

She broke off long enough to say, "I had a really good time at your shop today, George."

He felt a little relieved to hear it. "I'm really sorry they put you to work. I never meant for that to happen. I wish you would have taken some of those products I offered you in thanks."

"It would be silly for me to take home joke items. I have nobody to prank except Dad, and his nerves are quite torn to pieces as it is."

He tried to imagine a nervous man having a daughter such as Luna and stifled a laugh. "Well, you might have had some fun with a couple of the Daydream Charms."

She gave him an odd look and laughed softly. "My daydreams are vivid enough as it is, George."

He grinned. "I'll bet they are."

"So, I think I could have this catalogue back to you in a week, and you may not recognize it. I hope I do a good job."

"Really, Luna, you don't need to…"

"I _want_ to, George. I've been terribly bored this summer. And I think I'll make a good job of it. I often help my dad with the advertisements in the back pages of _The Quibbler."_

"Well, then, you're going to get paid for it," he insisted.

"No, George -" she started to say.

"Yes you will," he said in a firm voice. "I'm officially hiring you as our Advertising Executive."

"Don't you think you ought to discuss this with your brother?"

"Nope. I saw your work last week in the paper and I'm impressed. You'll do a hell of a better job than Fred or I could."

She beamed proudly. "Well, then. I'll try to find a way to bring it by when I'm finished."

"Just send me a message and I'll come for you."

They walked a little longer in near silence, finally approaching the bookstore. She stopped humming again and said, in a distant voice, "George? Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure, Luna."

"Would you like me to kiss you?"

He stopped walking and turned to stare at her. _"What?"_

She met his eyes without blinking, explaining, "Well, I thought you might like it, but I was very wrong about Neville, so I thought I'd better ask first this time."  
He hurriedly interjected, "Er, Luna, when I said that 'I could kiss you' I was _joking._ It was just an expression."

She shook her head, laughing softly. "Oh, I know _that._ But that's not why I thought you might like it. I have been thinking about it for some time - kissing you, I mean. Since the wedding, actually."

He had an absurd urge to grin stupidly, which he suppressed. "You have?"

"Yes, I have. And I thought that you might have been thinking about it, too. Have you, George?"

He gulped. "Oh. Well. I reckon…Luna, don't you think you're a little…I mean, don't you think _I'm_ a little too old to be thinking of kissing you?"

She stared at him solemnly. "Don't be silly, George. People much older than you think about kissing all the time. Why, your brother Bill is _much_ older than you and he kissed his wife in front of about two hundred people."

He stifled a nervous laugh and continued, choosing his words carefully. "That's not what I meant. Don't you think _you're_ a little young to be kissing me?"

"You kissed Katie Bell when she was younger than me, out by the lake," she pointed out.

He felt heat rising up the back of his neck. "How did you know that?"

"I saw you. It made me a little sad and I couldn't understand why. Is that why you aren't sure you want to kiss me? Do you want to kiss Katie instead?"

"Oh, no. I mean, that's been over with for a while. What I'm trying to say is that I am of age and you are…"

"Nearly of age."

"Well, yes, but there are a few years between us."

"Three. Less than three, actually." Luna really seemed to have thought about this, based on the readiness of her answer. "But perhaps I shouldn't have said anything. I don't think you really want to."

"It's not that…" he burst out with surprising vehemence.

She beamed. "So you _do_ want to?'

He coughed, "I didn't…"

"But, you need a little time to think about it?"

"Yeah. Reckon so," he said, feeling lame. _George Weasley, you idiot, since when have you been worse at this than Ron?_

"Oh, that's okay, I don't mind. Maybe you'll have a decision made the next time I see you. I'll hurry up with this catalogue." She smiled happily and began to walk toward the door. Just when he began to tell himself that he had imagined the whole conversation, she rushed back and hugged him, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself, George. I'm looking forward to getting your answer in about a week."

Momentarily robbed of the use of speech, he nodded, finally coming up with, "Bye, Luna."

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_**A/N: About time, isn't it? Please let me know what you think!**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_Dear George, _

_I am very pleased to tell you that your catalogue is finished. Or perhaps I should have said catalogues, because I made two of them. I hope you like them. They are very colorful. Or, rather one of them is, but the other is much more dignified. Would you like to come and visit me at _The Quibbler_ offices some time tomorrow? I borrowed Dad's printer to create a rough draft, but I need to print up a few corrections tomorrow. Plus, my father wants me to write out an advertisement for Pielkenrood's Purple Pretzels so I will be busy there for a few hours in the morning. You can use the floo if you like; just say, _'The Quibbler'_ and you will come out in our reception area. Please come before three, though, because Dad has a meeting then and he has been curious to meet you. _

_Regards, _

_Luna Lovegood_

'Dad had been curious to meet you.' _Bloody hell, I'll bet he has_. Luna probably announced to her dad over pancakes one morning that she suspected that George Weasley, fully-grown wizard and semi-respectable businessman, wanted to corrupt his innocent daughter. Wait, that wasn't right. George didn't want to corrupt her. Really he didn't. Yes, he was drawn to her. He found himself thinking of her occasionally since the last time he saw her. Okay, maybe more than occasionally. But just the fact that he struggled with it, that he knew that she ought to be off-limits to him - at least for a few months - ought to count for something.

At least he hadn't just _grabbed_ her that night and learned for himself the answers to the questions that had been driving him bonkers ever since…well, for a while, anyway. Neither George nor his twin had ever been known for their restraint, so it really was quite admirable, when you thought about it. And he really did have a lot of questions about her that needed answering.

For example, what would her lips taste like? It wouldn't be the spearmint taste of the brushing/flossing mints that every other girl he had ever kissed had somehow managed to discreetly pop into her mouth just moments before George had made his move. George had never been fond of the taste of spearmint, come to think of it. Luna, he was sure, would be different -- perhaps tasting of the butterscotch candy that she had offered him as they walked down Diagon Alley. Or pineapple, like the scent that he noticed in her hair while they were dancing. Or maybe even like the salty tang of Gillywater, the drink that she had chosen out of WWW's drink dispenser.

And what would she say after they kissed? Would he manage to stun her into solemn silence, or would she make another of her odd observations, something like telling him that his hair reminded her of orange fwooper feathers?

Regardless, it was all pointless speculation because, he was not going to kiss her. Not any time soon anyway. And there was no reason to worry about meeting her dad because he had nothing to feel guilty about. He had simply been kind to a strange and lonely girl -- an acquaintance from school who was also a friend of his sister. All he had really done was ask her to dance, and let her spend the day in his shop when she was bored and friendless. She had _volunteered_ to take on his catalogue project. He hadn't asked her. She seemed excited about it actually. Leave it to a Ravenclaw to choosetake on extra work like that. Well that was the Hufflepuff ideal, really, but a Ravenclaw would have looked upon it as a challenge, and they seemed to like those. But then again, Luna wasn't your typical Ravenclaw, was she? Just like George knew that he wasn't the embodiment of all things Gryffindor.

But the point was, she had _asked _him if she could do it. And he was going to pay her. So her dad had no reason to be angry. And since when had George ever been afraid of an authority figure? He hadn't even been this nervous when Umbridge managed to force Fred and him into a corner. But then again, he hadn't actually cared what Umbridge thought of him. Nor should he care what Luna's dad thought of him. And he didn't really. But he did like the fact that Luna seemed to think he was worth something as an individual, and her dad might say something to change her mind. _Scratch that, no he couldn't._ Luna, more than anybody else George had ever met, knew her own mind.

He wrote a reply, sending it off with the same owl, in which he let her know that he would arrive around lunchtime and expressed the hope that she would be able to come back with him to make a proper presentation to Fred. He reckoned that the least he could do was to offer to take her and her dad out to lunch. It was probably the very last thing on earth that he would have chosen to do under normal circumstances, but it would certainly start things off on the right foot.

Besides, there had only ever been two adults whom George had never been able to charm into liking him. One was Dolores Umbridge, who'd had poison running through her veins. The other was Professor Snape, although George had occasionally caught a flicker of a smirk at the corner of Snape's thin lips during some of George and Fred's better pranks. Also, he could have sworn that had seen grudging admiration in Snape's eyes as George and his twin had kicked off on their broomsticks on that very last day of school. But that could very well have been explained as satisfaction at never having to deal with the twins outside the Order again. And considering the subsequent events of that horrible night, late last spring, grudging amusement or admiration was the very _last_ thing that George wanted from Severus Snape.

But that was really not worth thinking about much -- it got depressing. The point was that George was well aware that he could be a charming bloke. And, seeing as how Luna (with her characteristic blunt honesty) was probably filling her father's head with unsavory stories about her 'new friend George's' hi-jinks at Hogwarts, it wouldn't hurt to get the introductions out of the way early, making an attempt at a good impression. Better that than allowing Lovegood to imagine all sorts of unsavory things about one of those notorious Weasley twins.

However, the more George thought about it, the more startled he was to realize that he and Fred had actually become…marginally respectable. Certainly they had made a success of the store, and personally, George was becoming about as dull as it was possible for a co-proprietor of a joke shop to be – all he ever really did was work, eat, and sleep anymore.

And he came from a well-respected family, too, at least from the standpoint of a non-pureblood fanatic type of person. Jack Lovegood had been a Hufflepuff, from what George had heard, and he appeared to stand firmly behind Dumbledore and all that he had represented, so _that_ wasn't an issue. The point was (as long as you didn't put too fine a point to it) that any father ought to have been _happy _to let George Fabian Weasley take out their underage daughter. Not that George had any intention of taking Luna out, really. It was just a matter of being prepared for any possibility. 'Constant Vigilance' as Mad-Eye would say.

Besides, he had been considering doing a little advertising in the Quibbler, too. People who read that magazine had to have a good appreciation for the absurd, and that sounded like George's kind of customer.

He dressed with more care than usual, but told himself that it was out of respect for a potential new business relationship. He'd had every intention of wearing his more somber black dragonskin jacket, but in a fit of rebellion and denial, chose a lurid green one instead. Setting that aside, he threw his maroon work robes on over everything, hoping that Fred wouldn't take too close a look at his brother's clothes or the state of his hair.

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George found himself on edge for most of the morning, accidentally spilling his tea over a stack of invoices and scolding Verity for adding too much leech juice to her very first attempt at nosebleed nougats. At quarter to noon, he picked up his jacket and headed toward the fireplace, calling out, "Oi, Fred, I'm off to lunch."

"Wait up, George, I'll go with you."

"No, you'd better stay hereVerity is still working down in the cellar. I'll bring you something back. Anyway, I've got a meeting_."_

"_Without_ _me?_ Who're you meeting with?"

"None of your business," George snapped.

For a moment, Fred looked almost hurt, but then he got a calculating look in his eyes. "Oh, yeah, right. I know who it is."

"Oh, you do, do you?"

"Think you can keep secrets from me, little brother?"

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"That's what you think."

"That's what I _know."_

"What d'you think you've kept hidden from me?"

"Like I'm going to tell you. Anyway, if you must know, I'm meeting with a possible advertiser."

"I don't want us to be in _The Quibbler!_ Only nutters read that rag!"

"_Nutters_ are our best customers, you prat! And have you forgotten that _The Quibbler_ was the only paper that had the bollocks to print the truth about Harry and Voldemort last year? It seemed to do a hell of a good job of getting the word out about that, didn't it?"

"Whatever, little brother. You and I _both _know that this has _nothing_ to do with advertising."

"It has everything to do with it! Luna took on our catalogue project last week."

"Are you _mental?_ She'll be so busy writing about Snargalumps or some such rubbish that nobody will know what product they are looking at!"

"Oh, piss off! I'll bring it back later and you can see for yourself. And then I guarantee that you'll owe me, _and her,_ an apology."

"And I'll be able to see you mooning over Loony Lovegood for myself then too, won't I?"

"Stop calling her that! And I _am not_ mooning over her. She's lonely, and could use a friend. Nobody even bothers trying to get to know her and she's really smart - not to mention brave and loyal and…a hell of a lot of fun!"

"Oh, yeah, not mooning over her at all, are you?"

"Yeah, just like _you're_ not being dragged around by the leash by Angelina, are you?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that what I do and _who I am friends with_ is none of your goddamn business!" He turned angrily, taking another step toward the floo.

"George…"

George stopped, thrusting his hands into his pockets, and turned, not quite meeting his twin's eyes. "Listen, mate, I'm really sorry. I just…hell, I don't know. I need you to back off a little, okay? I'm just…I don't know what the hell I'm doing but I need…" He broke off, not wanting to give too much away, but Fred seemed to understand.

"Yeah, I know. Don't worry about it, mate. I'll see you later. Try to remember to bring me something to eat, will you?"

George stepped up to the fireplace with trepidation, wondering if the entire world would be able to read his feelings as easily as Fred could. _But no, that's Fred, and Fred is different._ George had accepted long ago that Fred was nothing less than a small part of himself. Actually not all that small, when you thought about it. There was no point in trying to hide things from Fred, though it was sometimes tempting to try to. That stubborn Weasley independent streak made George crave something that was just _his own,_ that nobody could touch, or belittle, or nudge him into feeling uncertain about.

But his uncertainty could not be blamed on Fred, could it? His uncertainty had been there all along. Because feelings this strong were scary. They didn't sit well with George's sense of self. Nothing had _mattered _this much before. Nothing, other than the war, and family, really. And that was the trouble, wasn't it? Luna was already beginning to feel uncomfortably close to something like…well…_family,_ at least in his heart of hearts. And nothing had really happened yet. Shouldn't Katie or Alicia - who had not only been housemates of his but also teammates - have felt more like…family? But Alicia had not been proven to possess the requisite loyalty that a potential Weasley family member needed to pass muster. (Fred had indisputably demonstrated to George that Alicia neither knew nor cared which Weasley she had been kissing) And Katie, sweet as she was, would have completely disappeared in the Weasley throng.

But it wasn't just his admiration of Luna's better qualities. It was the fact that she 'got him' in ways that not even his twin did. And more importantly, he was beginning to understand her, in a way that…well he imagined that only her father did.

She pulled at him – the way that the moon pulled at the ocean -- and he found himself wondering why he was bothering to try to resist her. It seemed inevitable, really. He threw down a handful of sooty black powder, saying, "The_ Quibbler!"_ in a firm voice, laced with anticipation.

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George didn't know what to expect, but the vision that had crept into his head most often about the _Quibbler's_ offices was a dreary little upstairs room, containing little more than a bespectacled Jack Lovegood writing above a desk strewn with half scribbled parchment. Perhaps there would be another reporter or two, equally bizarre and staring blankly into space as they pulled strange and fanciful stories out of their heads.

What he got, however, was an elegant reception area with an attractive and professional-looking secretary, offering him a silver brush with which he could clean the soot off his clothes. Apparently, she had been told to expect him, because she said, "I'll tell Miss Lovegood that you are here, Mr. Weasley."

Then, after looking around cautiously, she whispered, "I just _love _your Patented Daydream Charms. Bloody brilliant!" With a wink and a smile, she disappeared through a door.

George sat down on a dark blue settee embroidered with golden palm fronds. He looked around the room, taking a closer look at the framed paintings on the walls. They reminded him of some illustrations he had looked at in an antique Care of Magical Creatures textbook during one of Professor Kettleburn's detentions.

The door reopened and George looked up to meet Luna's eyes, feeling that little twinge in his gut, which he chose to attribute to nervousness. She was wearing some sort of light blue floaty summer robe, and had pulled her hair back at the nape of her neck. He wondered if she had taken as much care in her choice of clothes as he had. He hoped she had, because he liked the results.

He arose from the couch and she glided over to him, standing on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "Hello, George, I'm really glad you could come."

It took a moment for George to find his voice, but he managed, in a deceptively casual tone, "No problem, Luna. I've been looking forward to it."

She blushed a little and said, "That's nice. Would you like to come in and have a look around?"

"Yeah, sure. Never been to a newspaper office before."

"Not even with Lee Jordan?"

"No, not yet, anyway. Too busy." George followed her through the door where he found a large, sunny room containing about twelve desks, piled with papers, certainly, but conspicuously missing bodies sitting behind them. There was a distant buzz coming from a closed door in the back of the room and George speculated that a magical printing press was probably running behind it. Another door was open against the back wall, and through that, George could see the somewhat familiar figure of Jack Lovegood, a longtime neighbor. He was sitting at a desk and studying a stack of parchment, his large eyes made even larger by thick glasses, causing him to resemble a startled owl. Luna took George's hand gently and led him toward the office. Mr. Lovegood looked up at their approach, his eyes – impossibly — widening even further.

"He's here, Daddy," said Luna, and Mr. Lovegood, after a brief puzzled stare, blinked and said, "Oh. Right. You're one of Arthur's boys, aren't you? One of the twins, I'll wager. You look like your uncle Fabian."

Most people avoided the subject of Molly Weasley's murdered brothers like the plague, and George, having never met them, didn't know how to respond. He reverted automatically to his mother's oft-drilled lessons on polite conversation. He held out his hand and said, "George Weasley, sir; nice to meet you. Dad has always said good things about you."

Mr. Lovegood blinked again. "He has? Oh, that's nice. Good man, Arthur. Molly, too, although she's not a man, is she? Good woman. She brought us food. Lots and lots of food. Enough food to feed us for over a month after -- " He broke off and stood up to enthusiastically shake George's hand, which George had been holding out for what seemed like ten minutes.

"Right," said Mr. Lovegood, "So, what can I do for you, George?"

"He came to see me, Daddy, remember? I'm going to show him the catalogue."

"Oh, yes, of course. She's really quite talented, you know. Like her mother — Well, Luna dear, I must finish the Square-Gobbed Nimnit article. We wouldn't want our readers to be taken unawares, would we?"

"No, Daddy."

"That'd be a tragedy, wouldn't it?" added George. "Oh, and sir; I wanted to ask if you and your daughter would enjoy taking a lunch with me."

"Would your mother cook?" asked Mr. Lovegood without a pause.

"Err, no. I was actually thinking of a restaurant."

"Oh. Well, that would be nice to. But Molly's food would be better. You can tell her I said that, if you like."  
"I will."

"So, will it this weekend?"

"What?"

"The lunch."

"Err, well, I was actually thinking about…today."

"Oh. But I have this article…"

Luna interrupted. "I must go over this catalogue with George anyway, so why don't you wrap things up while we are doing that, Daddy? Then we can all go together when you are done."

"Right. Good idea. I'll see you in a few minutes."  
Luna led George away to a desk which sat next to a window. Featured prominently on it was a photograph of a lovely, laughing young woman of about twenty-five, with bright blue, cat-like eyes and long, wavy blonde hair. She was holding a wide-eyed little girl of about two on her lap. The little girl was wearing a daisy-chain necklace that matched the daisy crown in the woman's hair. The mother pointed toward the camera, and the little girl stared at it solemnly until her mother blew raspberries on the little girl's neck, sending her into paroxysms of giggles. The mother then kissed the little girl's cheek and they waved at the camera together.

"That's my mother," Luna said, unnecessarily.

George replied, a little awed, "She was really beautiful! Not that …I hope I didn't sound like I was surprised. I didn't think you got your looks from your dad, after all."

Luna's eyes widened, and she blushed, looking away.

It hadn't quite come out the way that George had intended, and he tried to divert her attention. "She knew how to make you laugh, didn't she?"

Luna smiled fondly. "She made everybody laugh. Dad said he thought it was her goal in life. That and finding a cure for…"

"For what?"

"For anything. Lots of things. She was working on dragon pox, and scrofungulus, and lycanthropy when she died. I never did find out which one she was experimenting on when…"

"Yeah," George interrupted. "She sounds really cool." He wasn't entirely comfortable discussing someone who had died as a result of a failed experiment, given the number of experiments he and Fred performed on a daily basis. He looked around at her work area with interest. There was a wireless playing eerie, orchestral music on a shelf above the desk. Scattered around the top of her desk were a box of owl treats, a half-finished bottle of butterbeer and a neat stack of parchments. There was also an ornamental glass bowl filled with butterbeer corks, several thick hardcover books, a dog-eared paperback novel; the Muggle kind, and a small cactus-like plant, something that George thought he recognized as a very young Mimbulus mimbletonia.

"Nice plant."

"Oh, that's Vinnie. My birthday present from Neville."

"Vinnie?"

"Well, we decided to name it together a few days after he gave it to me. Plant tend to thrive if you talk to them, so it's not a bad idea to give them a name."

"But why…_Vinnie?"_

"Oh, well…You see, Vincent Crabbe poured a glass of spoiled pumpkin juice into my school bag at lunch one day. And he had also tripped Neville in front of most of the Slytherins on the same day. So, we -- Neville and I, I mean -- were talking about it at the library, and we decided that the plant favored him a bit. Especially when you consider that the plant has a particularly foul defense mechanism."

George barked out a laugh. "Perfect. Some day, when you've got a bit of time on your hands, I'll tell you all of the things that Fred and I've done to Crabbe and Goyle over the years, and maybe it'll give you a laugh."

"I think I'd rather hear about the time that you and Harry attacked Draco Malfoy for insulting your mother -- and Harry's. I really enjoyed that. I think…I think that that was when I started to fancy you."

George coughed and looked back at her desk. "So, anyway, the catalogue…"

"Oh, yes...why don't you have a seat? He rotated the chair of the desk in front of hers until it was facing her desk and sat down. She handed him a leather portfolio, which he opened up eagerly.

The parchment on front page had a bright blue background, but then it slowly changed to sort of a turquoise, then green, then greenish-yellow, then bright yellow, then orange, then red, then purple and back to blue. The ink color of the words: 'Welcome to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes' changed also, always to the opposite color on the color spectrum as the parchment background.

"Wow," he said, exhaling audibly. "That's…brilliant."

"Open it, George."

"Yeah…" He flipped to the first page and saw a group of their products arranged in a grid, with each square in the grid containing a small picture and a blurb describing the product. Luna swept around the desk and for the second time in a week, stood behind him. She reached over her shoulder to touch her wand to one of the products. The picture and text immediately took up the whole page, becoming much easier to see. With another tap, she reduced the size of the picture again.

"Bloody hell! How…"

Oh, it's really just a simple spell. Daddy's going to start incorporating it into the magazine. What gave me the idea was this thing that I saw in my Muggle Studies class. They called it a Comqueter."

"Oh, yeah, I think I've heard of those."

"So anyway, George, can you see this small box here?" She pointed toward the bottom right corner of the blurb.

George nodded.

"If you tap it like this…" One tap of her wand, and the box instantly darkened. "Once, or twice, or however many times…" She reached over his shoulder and turned pages until she reached the last page of the book, where there was an order form. The product the she had checked off, Fever Fudge, had a neat number one marked next to it, and at the bottom was a total price which included the cost of the Snackboxes and the owl fee.

"Blimey, Luna…You're _brilliant!_ This is so much better than I ever would have…How am I ever gonna thank you?"

She smiled. Actually, she beamed, pink-cheeked. "Well, you can start by taking Dad and I to lunch. That was a really nice idea."

"Oh, yeah sure. Do you think he's ready yet?"

"Let's find out," she said, and began to walk toward her father's office. George followed, gathering up the catalogue and putting it away again.

Just before she reached her father's door, she turned back to him with a secretive smile, and said, "Of course, George, if you _really_ want to thank me, you might want to reconsider that kiss I asked you about last week."

With that same solemn wink that she gave him at his brother's wedding, she turned and entered her father's office, leaving George standing near the doorway, sporting a pair of bright red ears.

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George wondered, as he signed the check, if he had ever had a more entertaining meal. Or a more bizarre one. He began to think of it as two musicians, both of whom were playing completely different songs, but who occasionally came together in perfect harmony, only to veer off onto different melodies altogether. He had a little trouble focusing on each line of conversation at first and coming up with the correct responses for both, but eventually he developed a rhythm of his own, which complemented both of them.

Of course, their waitress' apparent determination to flirt outrageously with George (turns out that she was one of WWW most grateful customers) added a few awkward moments. To George, flirting back was an almost instinctive response, but one look at Luna's face had him toning it down considerably. It wasn't anger or jealously on her face, but more of a calm acceptance with a little sadness, and it really bothered him to see it.

Suddenly, a disheveled and out of breath middle-aged wizard with thinning red hair rushed up to Mr. Lovegood, panting, "Jack, you must come now. I've had a report that _Severus Snape_ has been spotted in Blackpool."

George looked up from the bill instantly, meeting Luna's wide eyes. Mr. Lovegood stood up so quickly that his napkin went flying across the floor and he knocked over his water glass. Luna set it back upright, and calmly began siphoning away the water with her wand.

"I must go. Very nice to meet you Fabian; thank you for lunch. Good-bye."

George stared at Mr. Lovegood's retreating back. Finally he turned to Luna and said, "Uh, Luna, d'you think…was that bloke on the level? About Snape, I mean?"

"Well, I have no doubt that he received a report. Whether it was credible or not – I suppose that is what Daddy is going to find out."

"Oh, right. Listen, Luna, I'd better get going, too." He stood up and threw down some Galleons on top of the bill, looking around distractedly. He did, however, remember to pull out Luna's chair for her and hold open the door onto the street. His mother had certainly lectured him about it him often enough, and a few of her lessons had stuck. After stepping outside, he automatically turned and began to walk in the direction of his shop, but was distracted by Luna's voice from a distance.

"George?"

He turned to find her hesitating near the door of the restaurant. "What's wrong, Luna?"

"I just wanted to say goodbye. I had a lovely time."

"Where are you going?"

"Back to the Quibbler."

"But I thought you were going to come back to the shop with me."

"But…you said you had to go."

"I did?"

"Yes. You said 'I'd better get going.'"

"Oh, right. I meant _we._ I want you to be there when I show your work to Fred."

"You do?"

"Of course. And…I guess I was kind of looking forward to…"

"Yes, George?"

"Uh, spending the day with you. Or at least part of it, anyway."

Luna beamed, and with a deep breath, she glided toward him and slipped her hand into his. He also took a deep breath, squeezed her hand, and they walked down the street together. His mind was racing, trying to decide who was the best person to contact about this Snape business. He had to do it subtly, to avoid Luna noticing it. He could either leave her with Fred while he popped his head into the Burrow's floo, leaving it to his mum to handle, or pull Fred aside and ask him to do it for him. He decided to do it himself, at least as far as contacting the Burrow. He couldn't count on Fred taking Mr. Lovegood's information seriously, although he hated the idea of exposing Luna to Fred's sarcasm without his presence. He was a bit…no, _very _nervous about how Fred would treat Luna as it was, but hoped that the utter brilliance of her work would garner a little grudging respect. But, still, the 'Snape problem' had to be taken care of quickly, so…

He realize that his silence must have appeared a little odd, but when he looked over at Luna, she just smiled at him and continued looking around the Alley, humming under her breath. Her hand was still enclosed in his and the feeling of it; so much smaller and softer than his own, somehow made him feel so happy that he couldn't think of a thing to say.

Finally they reached the door to the shop, and she let go of his hand as they entered. He thought about reaching for her hand again, once through the door, mostly to reassure her, and partly just to prove a point to Fred, but it was clear to George that Fred had been watching him as they walked up. He and Verity were sitting behind the counter, mouths agape. George put his hand on Luna's shoulder, and said, "Fred, you'd better prepare yourself -- this catalogue is going to knock you right out of your green and orange striped socks."

Fred recovered quickly. He met George's eyes with a knowing look, but approached Luna with a warm smile, saying, "Which only goes to prove that my little brother doesn't know me half as well as he thinks he does."

He leant towards her and continued conspiratorially, "They're _purple _and orange. And they're decorated with _Bludgers_, not stripes. But how much d'you want to bet I could tell you what color underwear _he's_ wearing?"

Without missing a beat, Luna replied, "I think I'd much rather find that out for myself, but thanks anyway."

Fred stared at her, open-mouthed for a moment, then let out a great burst of laughter. Luna continued to stare back at him, her expression serene, but the corners of her mouth twitched a bit and she finally gave in and laughed along with Fred.

George grinned, feeling just a little bit relieved, but he remembered that he needed to slip away for a couple of moments. "Luna, why don't you show him your work while I pop off to the loo?"

George handed her the portfolio he had been carrying since before lunch, which she took with a smile and a questioning look at him.

When George returned, he found Luna hovering over Fred in an almost identical scene as the one he had taken part in that morning. Luna was eagerly explaining how the catalogue worked and demonstrating with her wand. Fred was reacting in a similar way to the way George had, but only slightly more astonished than his brother had been. However, there were a few crucial differences in the scene. One was the addition of Verity over Fred's right shoulder. The other was that Luna didn't brush against Fred at all. She seemed to be making an effort not to.

George breathed a sigh of relief, feeling that somehow, Luna had managed -- in ten minutes at the store -- to open up a world of possibilities. It was going to be okay. She had gained Fred's respect, and was quickly earning his grudging admiration. It was just a matter of time before she would be rewarded his friendship, too. And that made things easier, didn't it? But it also made it scarier, too. Because whatever obstacles he had chosen think of as keeping her off-limits seemed to be melting away. And he was finding it impossible to stop thinking about her.

George had always been secretly baffled by Fred's continual insistence that nobody on the planet compared to Angelina. He had been even more baffled by Ron's six-year obsession with Hermione. Bill's situation was a bit more understandable, he was older, for one thing, and there was that whole 'Veela' aspect of the thing, after all. But suddenly, and reluctantly, George was beginning to 'get it.' And even though Fred was George's age and Ron was even younger, it didn't seem right to George to have feelings like this at just barely nineteen. Worse yet, Luna was not even seventeen. Not to mention, there was a _war_ on, and both of them had a lot of evil people who considered both of them as mortal enemies.

And he hadn't even snogged her yet. Which was probably the best thing to do at this point. Because (he hoped) it _could_ all just be due to the fact that he hadn't ever resisted the urge to kiss someone before this. Once he got it over with; out of his system, maybe he wouldn't feel so drawn to her. (Somewhere in the back of his mind, a little voice told him that this plan could backfire, and that giving in to the urge to kiss Luna might create an even stronger urge -- an urge to shag her – but he decided to ignore that voice.)

Luna chose this moment to turn and look at him, giving him a warm smile, and he approached the trio huddled over the catalogue. "So Fred, was I right?"

"You were right, George. This is…perfect."

"Well, not quite perfect, " added Luna. "We have discovered a few mistakes but they can be easily set right."

George pulled up a chair and the three of them -- actually the four of them, because Verity had a fair bit of insight to offer -- spent the next several hours perfecting the catalogue in between customers. The afternoon flew by; before George was even aware that the sun was no longer shining brightly into their front window, Verity got up to tap the 'open' sign with her wand.

"Goodnight Fred, George, Luna," she said, gathering up her things.

"Hey Verity," said Fred, any chance you can drop off the purse at Gringotts on your way home?"

"Ooh, gosh, I'm sorry, I'm going the opposite direction, and I'm going to be late already. I could do it before work tomorrow if you like…"

"Nah, don't worry about it. I'll do it."

George looked up. "Got a hot date, Verity?"

"Oh, no…"

"Because that's like the, what…?"

"Fifth…," supplied Fred.

George continued. "Yeah, fifth time this week that you have rushed out of here in a hurry."

"Not that we're counting or anything," added Fred.

"Plus, you seem to be doing a lot of blushing lately…"

"Yeah, like right now…"

"Not that we mind…" George said.

"Actually, it makes you even prettier…" Fred added, waggling his eyebrows.

"But…we wondered if it had anything to do with our good friend Lee."

"Because George thought he saw you tangling tongues with him outside the Leaky last week."

"_Bugger!"_ Verity muttered under her breath.

George grinned wickedly at her. _Ten points to Gryffindor._ "No, I didn't see _that _-- just snogging. But what you two get up to in the privacy of your own flat is really none of my business…"

"Oh, sod off, you two're like a couple of nosy old ladies!" she said, throwing her cloak over her shoulders.

Fred assumed his most innocent expression. "Us? No, we're just a couple of romantic blokes, glad to see a little more love in the world, especially between two of our favorite people."

"Speaking of which, send him _our _love," called out George.

"You can kiss him for us, too," added Fred.

With a completely insincere evil look thrown in their direction, and an expertly executed rude hand gesture, which might have been a bit more sincere, Verity disappeared through the door, with the twins' laughter ringing out behind her. They looked at each other, grinning.

"That's _twenty_ you owe me, big brother."

Fred conceded reluctantly. "Yeah, I suppose so. But you know, that still doesn't mean that at one time, she preferred…"

"Shut, it, Fred, or I will call you a sore loser."

Fred sent his brother a sly glance. "Yes, but I _was_ right about the other thing…"

"Shut it, Fred!" George muttered under his breath.

"What other thing?" asked Luna, her face alight with curiosity.

"Well…" started Fred.

George, his ears crimson with embarrassment, sent urgent, telepathic death threats to his brother.

"Yeah, well, maybe I'll leave it to him to tell you some day," said Fred, mercifully.

Luna's face fell then, and George wanted to throttle his brother for forcing him to make her feel left out. The words came out of his mouth before he even stopped to think about them. "Actually, what Fred is hinting at -- trying to embarrass me in front of you -- is that last week he insisted that I fancy you."

"Oh."

"And he was right."

"Oh." Luna's face went pink, Fred's went white, and George felt fairly certain that his was beet red.

"So, anyway, I think it's time to go," George said, mustering up a nonchalant expression and a breezy tone of voice. "Say 'hi' to Angie for me, Fred."

"Yeah, okay mate. See you later. Nice to see you again, Luna; don't be a stranger."

"Of course not, Fred. I have to bring the final draft of the catalogues, anyway. Goodnight."

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They walked in silence for a while, and this time, the silence was not as comfortable as usual. George wondered what could have possessed him to blurt out what he had. Part of it, he supposed, was a desire to render Fred speechless. Part of it had been in defense of Luna's potential hurt feelings. Then again, he realized, it had been a very 'Weasley' thing to do.

"Is "Angie" Angelina Johnson?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah."

"She's a very nice girl. Is she Fred's girlfriend?"

"I reckon she is, though I've never heard him call her that. But yeah, they've been spending a lot of time together."

"Do you feel left out?"

"Huh?"

"When he is with Angelina, you are left alone. Does that bother you?"

"Uh…no, not really. I mean, we don't spend all our time together like we used to but that's bound to happen, we're both busy, with work and…stuff."

"Plus, I am sure that you both are busy with …," she lowered her voice, "The Order of the Phoenix."

He stopped in his tracks. "The _what?"_

She just looked up at him with a mildly inquisitive look in her eyes.

"Where did you hear that name?"

"My father is a reporter, George."

"But he's never mentioned anything in the _Quibbler,_ has he?"

"He knows better than to do that, George. It would do far more harm than good. But he's known about it for a while now. In fact, he would have tried to _join _a long time ago if it weren't for me."

"You stopped him?"

"No, I encouraged him to join actually, once I realized that I had probably knew half the members. But he won't join while I'm still in school. He doesn't want to leave me an orphan. And, of course, they won't take _me_ until I am out of school, will they?"

"Uh, no, I reckon not."

"But, he would have no problem passing on interesting items of information that come across his desk. He just needs someone to talk to about it. I told him that Professor Lupin was probably his best bet, now that Professor Dumbledore is, well…gone. But Professor Lupin is not the easiest person to find, is he? Anyway, George, perhaps you can tell whoever you talked to about Professor Snape this afternoon what my dad would like to do and where to find him. Or maybe _you_ could be the person he talks to. That way I would get to see you even more often. But, I know you're really busy. Or maybe you're not, with Fred gone so often."

"Uh, still pretty busy, actually. And to be honest, Fred doesn't see Angie near as often as he'd like to. She has to train a lot."

He stopped walking. There were things that he wanted to say, and he couldn't quite figure out how to get started. "You know, Luna, nobody else had ever really thought to ask if I _minded _Fred and Angelina."

"No?" Luna had stopped when he did, and was currently examining the Alley's most boring widow display with apparent interest. She continued, "Sometimes it seems like people miss things that are so, well, _obvious _to me. But then again, I think I may have noticed because I was worried…"

He stepped closer to her. "About what, Luna?"

She looked up at him through slightly lowered eyelashes. "Are you spending time with me because you're lonely?"

"Huh?"

"Well, I know you can't _really_ be lonely with a family like yours and all your friends, but I just wonder…"

"Yes?"

"If feeling left out has anything to do with it? Perhaps you think that because that Fred has a girlfriend, and now Lee is with Verity…"

"This isn't the first time that Fred has had a girlfriend, Luna. Granted, this'll probably be his _last _girlfriend, I mean, they'll probably get married some day, but…"

"Yes?"

"Well, let's just say I'm _not_ looking for someone to replace Fred. I'm spending time with you for a lot of reasons. That's not one of them. To be honest with you, if I was just looking for a girl to fill the gap, it wouldn't have been hard to find one."

"No, it wouldn't. Lots of girls liked you at school."

"Yeah, well they might have thought my jokes were funny, or they may have been Quidditch fans, or wanted to be with one of 'the twins.' None of them ever really wanted to get to know _me."_

"That's not entirely true, George. I mean … I did overhear a conversation in the girls bathroom one day on 'how to tell the twins apart.'"

"_What?"_

"Well, they got it all wrong, anyway. They didn't see the real differences between you. And mostly they were concerned with taking off your…"

George interrupted her as quickly as possible. "Yeah, you know what? I reckon I'd probably rather _not_ know."

Shaking his head at the absurdity of teenage girls in general, he looked closely at the one in front of him, whom everybody else thought a little absurd. He realized that no matter how he put the things that he wanted to say, she would listen and understand, because that was the kind of girl she was. "Anyway, I really want you to know that the reason I have been spending time with you is because I want to. I like you a lot. But I also think that we should probably take it, well, slow…Mainly because of the age difference…and the war, and…"

"So are you saying that you're not going to kiss me, tonight then, George?"

"Uh, yeah; well, I was actually thinking that maybe in a couple of months…"

She raised her eyebrows and smiled, in fact, it almost seemed as if she was about to laugh at him. And suddenly he wanted to laugh at himself, for saying something that the impulsive prankster that he'd been only a few years ago – hell, only a few _months_ ago – would have dismissed as utter rubbish. Actually, it sounded more like something _Percy_ would say -- and _that _simply wouldn't do at all. He found that he couldn't hold back his laughter, and neither did she. And then, just as suddenly, he found himself reaching out to her and taking her face in his hands fingering the wisps of hair that surrounded it. He looked into her eyes, and the laughter in them quickly disappeared, along with the misty, unfocused look she always seemed to have. Her eyes were brimming with hope and happiness and yearning. That knot in his gut seemed to be constricting his entire body until he finally bent his face down to brush his lips across hers, and then it dissolved into a spreading warmth.

George opened his eyes to find her staring at him, which he'd rather expected, but he'd pictured a dreamy expression on her face. Instead, he saw eagerness and determination. She slid her arms around his neck, pulling him close, then moistened her mouth and kissed him fiercely. It was clear at first that she didn't know what she was doing, but she learned quickly, and by the time they pulled apart, he was left out of breath and a little dizzy.

"I think it must have been Neville's fault, after all," she said breathlessly, and this time she did have that dreamy expression on her face that he had expected.

It took him a moment to figure out what she was talking about, but when he did, he laughed out loud. "Yeah. I don't reckon I'd have noticed if you'd had a whole _stampede_ of Nargles in your hair."

"And I am afraid that neither of us would have noticed if a few Death Eaters or Heliopaths were lurking around the corner. I think I'd better be getting home now, George, it's nearly dark."

"Oh, yeah, right," he said, and held out his hand to continue walking back to The Quibbler offices. "Listen, Luna. D'you want to go and get some dinner at the Leaky?"

"I'd really like that, George, but I need to get home to make dinner for Dad."

"Oh, yeah, right," he said, more than a little disappointed.

"Besides, I'd really like a little time to myself to think about all of this. This sort of thing doesn't happen every day, you know."

"No, it doesn't," he said, and he was fairly certain that neither one of them was thinking about anything as simple as a couple of kisses.

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**_A/N: Thanks for sticking with this one. I know that updates have been slow to arrive, but I will finish this._**

_**If you are enjoying this story, take a look at my second attempt at Ron and Hemione, it's called Gobsmacked. At this point it is still in the PG-13 stages, but it will eventually earn its rating**_

_**Also, I now have a livejournal, on which I occasionally post spoilers for this story, and answer questions. The address is in my profile.**_

_**Oh, and please let me know what you think!**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

George Weasley was bored. So bored that he wanted to tear his hair out. Fortunately, before he did, he got a mental image of his father's pathetic hairline and reckoned that he ought to be kind to his hair while he still had it because he would miss it when it was gone. The trouble was, George was not a sit-at-the-table-on-a-Sunday-morning-drinking-tea-and-reading-the-Prophet kind of bloke. It would have been much better if Fred had been there to liven up the situation, of course. But Fred was still sleeping. And George was well aware that Fred needed some sleep, and he wasn't quite ready to forgive Fred for forcing him to sleep on the settee the night before. Well, to be honest, Fred had not forced anything; it was more like George had volunteered. Actually, there was no volunteering involved. George had walked back into the flat and immediately knew from the sounds coming out of the bedroom that Fred would not appreciate his intrusion. George reckoned they really needed to get a two-bedroom flat. Especially once…

_No. Best not to let your mind wander in that direction, Weasley._ Of course, the trouble was, once his mind wandered in 'that direction' it was fairly difficult to redirect it. Actually, the best thing would have been to find somewhere else to go or someone else to hang out with. However, the shop was closed, so that option was out, unless he wanted to something completely dull like accounting or inventory, and he most certainly did not want to do that. He could go to the Burrow, but it was still much too early to arrive for dinner. His mum might think he was coming by to help, and put him straight to work. George was certainly not in the mood for de-gnoming the garden. Although, come to think of it, it was always a rather effective way to burn off aggression.

_Don't you mean sexual frustration, Weasley?_

No, not sexual frustration--not much, anyway. And that was something that he could handle. It was more of a matter of wanting to go and see Luna. And _that,_ of course, was rather embarrassing because he had just seen her yesterday--had lunch with her actually. But she always said no when he asked to see her at night. Granted, she had a pretty good reason; she had promised her dad that she would always be at home after dark, for her safety. But it sometimes left George feeling a little out of sorts, because it seemed like going out to dinner would be considered actual dating. Come to think of it, maybe that's what her dad objected to.

No, George knew that it was a safety issue. And she _had_ invited him to come to dinner at her house. George had declined because that particular night he had an Order assignment. He hadn't brought it up again because deep down, he really didn't relish the idea of having dinner with her father. George thought that, myopic as Jack Lovegood appeared to be, he couldn't help but notice that the third person at their table was having impure thoughts about his daughter.

So that left George pursuing his usual nighttime entertainment; namely, hanging out at pubs, both wizard and Muggle, at least on non-Order nights. And drinking...sometimes butterbeer, sometimes firewhisky, occasionally ale or …what did they call them? Long Island Iced teas? Playing darts or snooker with Fred. Halfheartedly flirting with women, both Muggle and Wizard, and occasionally fending off more obvious advances, especially from the Muggles. Damn if those girls weren't blunt.

Last night, however, had been the worst yet, because suddenly, without anyone's consulting George, Saturday night had become a universal 'date night.' Fred was busy, Lee was busy, and George was lonely, damn it! The Leaky was dead because of a terrible Death Eater attack on a wizard wedding in Wales two nights before.

The first Muggle pub he tried was filled with a bunch of people watching that stupid 'football' thingy. What was the point of that game, anyway--only one ball? And you couldn't even chuck it at the other players? No wonder their fans were always starting fights. He even tried one of those Muggle 'moovy' whatsits. The story had sounded promising, it was supposed to be set during the time when that mad wizard, the one who mentored Grindenwald, killed all those Muggles by sinking their boat. He had read about it in the history books, of course, and Grandpa Prewett had told stories about all of the work that the Department of Misinformation had had to put in, in order to convince _two_ governments that it had all been the work of an iceberg. It ought to have been rather interesting to be able to watch the Muggle perspective, but the 'moovy' quickly disintegrated into a fairly sappy love story, which got George on the wrong track all over again. And the couple in front of him would insist on slobbering all over each other and cooing audibly.

George left halfway through in disgust, intending to walk in the park and set off a few almost innocent fireworks, but the park got depressing too. It was filled with snogging Muggle couples of all ages, some of which were really too old to be making such displays in public. George finally found himself sneaking into the zoo and watching a couple of gorillas performing some complicated ritual which turned out to be all about mating, after all. Then laid out on a grassy area and tried to look at the stars, but the lights of the city obscured most of them.

So he went home. And got to spend the night on the couch, reading a Quidditch magazine and trying to ignore the sounds coming from the closed bedroom door. After about thirty minutes of extreme discomfort, he remembered that a silencing spell could work two ways, so he was able to eliminate that issue. Just before nodding off, he remembered that he ought to have slept at Headquarters. It was something that he hoped he would never forget in the future. (And he was impressed by Fred's stamina.)

So here he was, trying not to resent his twin for having the good fortune to be able to spend a lazy Sunday morning snuggled up to his girl, while trying to curb the impulse to show up at Luna's doorstep. Perhaps if he showed up with a bunch of cinnamon buns…

But, no; Luna had spent the previous evening at publishing industry awards ceremony with her father. (Not that Jack had won anything, or had even been nominated, but he did feel that keeping in touch with fellow publishers and editors was a vital part of his job. And Luna knew that those contacts would eventually come in handy for the Order.) So it was a little too early to visit Luna. The dinner had been in Berlin, after all, and later would be too late to see her, because he had to go to the Burrow for dinner.

_Bugger._

_The Order!_

Now there was an idea. Remus was a notoriously early riser, and he wouldn't be busy, would he? George could sit down and talk to him about Jack Lovegood's request. And hopefully, Remus would decide that _George _would be the best person to be Jack's Order contact, which would mean that George would have an excuse to see more of Luna—or rather, her father. Plus, he could find out if anything had come of that Snape sighting.

_Greasy git._

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A few moments later, George found himself slipping inside the door of Headquarters. Thankfully, all of Dumbledore's enchantments had held up, so it continued to be an ideal secret location. He slipped past the portrait of Wallburga Black, giving her the 'very special salute' that he and Fred had created in Sirius' honor. It was much more fun, of course, to offer the salute from behind his mother's back when the canvas covering was off the portrait. But still, it was the thought that counted, wasn't it?

Chuckling, he made his way toward the kitchen. He had a mental image of what he would find beyond the swinging door. Remus would be sitting there, wearing his usual meticulously mended gray cardigan, with a perfectly pressed threadbare oxford shirt underneath, his hair carefully combed, and in perfect 'sitting-at-the-table-on-a-Sunday-morning-drinking-tea-and-reading-the-Prophet' mode.

As it turned out, Remus _was_ in the kitchen, but the cardigan and the oxford shirt were conspicuously absent. He found his former teacher bare-chested, leveling a seriously overburdened breakfast tray in front of him, which George very nearly caused to crash into the floor.

"Oh, sorry, Remus, I didn't mean to…"

"George! Hello there." Remus' eyes widened in surprise and then a rare flash of irritation crossed his features. "Well, don't worry about it. No harm done."

"I meant to…" George looked down at the contents of the tray. There seemed to be more food piled on it than even the most ravenous werewolf could possibly eat. First of all, there were _two plates._ Two plates, two forks, two spoons… Scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, bangers, toast, a tea service, and…chocolate sauce? _What the…?_

He looked up to find Remus not quite meeting his eyes as he said, "So, George, is it me you've come to see, or were you looking for someone else?"

"Uh, _you_, actually ... I wanted to--" He discovered that Remus' ears were reddening. Then, as George looked down, his eyes were involuntarily drawn to the faint scar tissue scattered over his former teacher's too-thin frame, and among the scars, he noticed…_was that…?_

George grinned. "Damn, Professor, I would have bet money that _you _were the biter in that relationship!"

Remus cleared his throat and said, "I'm sure I haven't the foggiest idea of what you are talking about, George. At any rate, I am just bringing Nym...er, rather, Miss Tonks her breakfast. She worked a double shift last night. So…what was it that you wanted to see me about?"

George's grin widened. "Er, yeah, right. You know what? I think it can wait; I didn't mean to intrude. Are you going to be at the Burrow tonight?"

"I imagine your mother would hunt us down like a couple of criminals if we didn't."

"Reckon you're right. I guess I'll talk to you about it then." George backed out the door, holding it open so that Remus and his tray could follow him. They walked down the hallway together for a moment, then parted ways at a corner.

"Oi, Remus," George called out after a few steps.

Remus sighed and turned around.

George let out an exaggerated wolf whistle.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Very original, Mr. Weasley. I don't recall ever hearing _that one_ before. Until later tonight, then."

George called out after him, "Give her hell, Professor!"

He couldn't be sure, but he could have sworn that he heard a very faint, "I plan on it," coming from the rapidly disappearing back of his former teacher. Grinning maniacally, George left the depressing old mausoleum and entered the bright sunlight of London.

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_Where to go now?_

Not back home --Fred and Angie would probably be feeding each other strawberries or something equally revolting.

_The Burrow, then, and a little gnome warfare._ Not to mention a far more appetizing lunch than his breakfast had been. Within seconds, he was opening the garden gate.

"Hello Mum!" he called out as he entered the kitchen.

"Fred! No, George!" Molly rushed forward to embrace him and give him a hasty kiss on the cheek. She pulled away and held him steady as she looked him up and down.

"You need a haircut dear," she clucked, then her eyes grew wide. "But oh, my, where is Fred, anyway? Is something wrong? Why are you here so early?"

George laughed. He really needed to spend time away from Fred more often. "Fred's still sleeping, Mum, he's fine."

"Still sleeping?" Her eyes narrowed in disapproval.

"Well, he was when I left. He was up late last night."

"Oh," his mother said knowingly. George could tell she was thinking 'Order business,' and wasn't stupid enough to correct her. She asked, "So why are you here so early?"

George put on his most winning smile. "Here to see you, Mum. And Ginny. Where is she?"

"Oh, she got up early to de-gnome the garden for me." Molly sighed, "You know, George, I think she is a little depressed. I'm getting worried about her. She's so quiet, and she doesn't argue when I ask her to do something, and she never laughs anymore, nor teases your dad, and she's just not…"

"Ginny," George supplied.

"Exactly."

George accepted the glass of pumpkin juice his mother poured him, squeezing her hand in the process. "She's worried about Ron, I'll wager, Mum. And Hermione, too, no doubt. They've gotten thick as thieves, those two." _Not to mention she's terrified for her clueless, reckless, sorry git of a boyfriend._

Molly was two steps ahead of him. "Not to mention Harry, I'm sure. And this is the first summer she has been alone out here. I'm sure she is bored. Tell you what, George, why don't you take her out for a little flying? Not too far, mind you, but I'm sure she will be safe with you."

George tried not to show a reaction to this unprecedented display of trust and confidence from his mother. It somehow reminded him of the way that he had felt, dancing with Luna that first time, when she called him kind. And, of course, that got him thinking about Luna again, and he realized that he had the perfect way to start introducing the idea of her to his mother and make her feel good at the same time. "Oh, Mum, someone was saying nice things about you the other day."

"Oh really, who?"

"Jack Lovegood. He called you a 'good woman,' and said that he would prefer your cooking to a restaurant's any day."

Molly puffed up like a hen who just laid an egg. "Oh, that's nice. Where did you see him?"

"At his office. We're going to be taking out an ad."

She raised her eyebrows, giving him a look of skepticism. "Hmm."

"You know, Mum, after I met him, I started to think about the two of them, out there by themselves amongst all those Muggles. I realized how lucky we are that we have such a lot of people to count on, and I don't mean just our family. But he; Jack, I mean, could very well be a target because of that article about Harry. Not to mention that his daughter was at the Ministry that one night over a year ago, and Ron said she fought at Hogwarts, too."

True to form, Molly reacted immediately. "You know, dear you're right. I must ask you father what is being done to protect people like them. Well, not people like them, actually—them in particular. I'm ashamed to say that I'd never even thought about it. She's Ginny's friend, you know, poor little motherless child. And he's an odd one, but a good man, really. And she must be so lonely out, there, with just the two of them. I should invite them over some time. It'd give Ginny someone her age to talk to. In fact, perhaps…let me see if Errol is in the roost."

George suppressed a sly grin. "I'll get him, Mum. You thinking about inviting them tonight?"

"Yes, dear, I can't believe I haven't done it before. Why, the Diggorys come over every few months ever since…well, you know. And it ought to be a nice group tonight. Remus and Tonks have promised to stop by, and Mad-Eye, and oh, Bill and Fleur are coming…"

George smirked. "Came up for air, did they?"

Molly eyed him sternly, "I'm sure I have no idea what you are talking about."

This made him laugh out loud, and he replied, Oh, yeah, Mum, because we all know you found _each and every one_ of your _seven_ children under a cabbage leaf…_Mollywobbles."_ He winked at her.

"_George Weasley!"_

He grinned. "I'll send Errol over, Mum, then I'll go looking for Ginny. Anything you need us to pick up while we're out?"

"No dear, nothing…" He could see the wheels turning in her mind as she began to add more items to the menu. "Although, perhaps a bottle of Firewhisky. Your dad and Jack used to occasionally enjoy…well, you know, before his wife…And I'm sure Remus, and oh, dear, Bill, too."

George was not about to be counted amongst the kids any more, and made sure she knew it. "And me and Fred."

"Yes, well, I suppose so…At any rate, pick up a bottle of Firewhisky and a couple of extra bottles of wine. And thank you, dear."

George kissed his mother on the cheek, and turned toward the door. On the way out, he stole a finger full of cake icing, narrowly avoiding his mothers swatting hand. Once in the back yard, he began to look out for Ginny, at the same time praying that he would not find the ancient owl keeled over from a heart attack.

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After successfully convincing the reluctant owl to fly to the kitchen window, (which was, after all, something of a priority) George found Ginny sitting at the edge of the pond on a hollow log, her arms wrapped around her knees

"Hey, Gin."

She looked up, startled from her musings. "Oh, hi…George. You're early, aren't you? Looking for Dad?"

"Looking for you. Shove over."

"Get your own log," she protested, even as her eyes lighted up in pleasure.

"How about I push you in?" he asked, knowing it would be a challenge.

She countered without a moment's hesitation. "How about I tell Mum and Dad about what you and Fred and those two Muggle girls did in the pond two summers ago."

George plopped down next to her, his grin becoming decidedly evil. "How about I tell them about that time we caught you and that Corner bloke stepping out of the Room of Requirement?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Hypocrite. How about I tell Mum who really blew up the broom shed?"

She was ruthless. He laughed, "How about flying with me?"

She jumped to her feet instantly. "Cool, I'll go get a broom, you ask Mum."

"Already did," he said, and summoned the brooms that he had removed from the shed a few moments before. They were on them and in the air within seconds.

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They didn't speak much while soaring through the wind, but somehow seemed to agree without words to chase the same birds or to pick walnuts off the top of a tree and pelt each other with them. They swooped down to a deserted part of the river, letting their feet dangle in the water as they flew. Some distance away from the village, they dismounted, and George transfigured the brooms into a pair of roller skates, which he slung over his shoulder. They walked through the village, headed toward the old wizard who lived near the far end and had a sort of liquor-store-slash-distillery running out of his basement. On the way, they picked up a couple of ice cream cones, and walked even more slowly as they savored them.

Between licks of rocky road, George asked, "How've you been, Gin?"

"Fine," she replied.

"Bored?"

She looked at him as if he were an idiot. She sniffed, "Yeah."

"Lonely?"

Ginny frowned. "A little."

"Missing your boyfriend?"

She looked up and glared at George, while mocha ice cream dripped down her fingers. "He's not my boyfriend."

"So find another one."

"Not interested," she muttered.

He decided to go for an even more direct approach. "Worried about them?"

That condescending look was back on her face. "Aren't you?"

"Yeah, reckon so."

"Where's your better half today, George?"

"Snuggled up to a girl." He shook his head.

Ginny grimaced. "Eww. You miss him?"

"Not much."

"So why not get a girl of your own?" She looked over slyly.

"Who says I haven't?"

"If you had, you wouldn't be spending the morning with yourdull sister."

George leaned over, bumping her to the side of the road. "Maybe I want to. We seem to be the only two single people left in the world this morning."

She bumped back. "I thought you said you have a girl."

"I don't--not this morning, anyway." He bumped her again, harder than before. "Besides, no one will ever compare to you."

She linked her arm into his. "Git."

He sighed, changing the course of the conversation to something more lighthearted. "The girl of my dreams will have to cook like Mum, have Hermione's brain, Fred's sense of humor, and _your_ bat-bogey hex. And play Quidditch like Angelina."

She laughed, asking, "And looks?"

Together they said laughing, _"Phlegm."_

After a while, he spoke again. "So what about you, Gin?"

"Huh?"

"The bloke of your dreams." He nudged her, more gently this time. "Harry Potter?"

"_Git," _she replied."Him, or me?"

"Him." She rolled her eyes.

George persisted. "So, you have to make one up too."

"Hmm…That's a tough one. I spent so long idealizing Harry that I don't know anymore." Sighing, she shook her head.

"Okay, I'll help." George said. "First, brains…someone from Ravenclaw, maybe that pompous arsey Boot bloke."

Ginny laughed. "Nah, if this is going to be an ideal, I should aim higher than that. Professor Lupin…No, Dumbledore."

"Good one!" George exclaimed, nodding. He continued with a smirk, "And sense of humor would be _me,_ of course."

"Nah, I'm gonna have to go with Dumbledore again, more subtle." Ignoring George's exaggerated scandalized look, she continued.

"Let's see…Quidditch, I'll have to go with Viktor Krum. That'd piss both Harry and Ron off."

"I like the way you think."

"And Neville's courage."

This time George really was scandalized. "I take it back, you're mental. You'd think that _your boyfriend_ would have a lock on _that_ one."

Ginny shook her head. "He's _not_ my boyfriend. And Harry, brave as he is, doesn't always think of the consequences of his actions. Neville, on the other hand, is always aware of what the consequences are, and is risks things anyway."

"You're probably right, Gin." George nodded, then said with a sly smile, "And looks, is that Neville, too? Or …I know…Diggory. He seemed to be the universal standard for male beauty at Hogwarts."

Ginny shook her heard vehemently. "Nope. Too fair. Prettier than me, and that wouldn't do."

"So Potter it is, then."

"We're not putting Harry into this, are we?" She reminded him. She thought for a minute, then stated emphatically, "Sirius Black."

George hadn't seen that one coming. "You like your blokes skinny and pale?"

"Yeah, and that's why I went for Dean and Michael, isn't it?" Ginny had sarcasm down to an art. "And I _meant_ the way that Sirius looked in Harry's parents wedding picture. He showed it to me once."

"So basically, you have a thing for older blokes, some of which are dead," George teased.  
Ginny nudged him. "Arse. And you have no right to say anything when _your_ list is nearly incestuous."

"What do you mean? I'm not related to Angelina, or Hermione, or Fleur."

"You will be," Ginny replied, and he couldn't really argue with that.

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After finishing their ice creams they rang the old wizard's doorbell. There was a considerable bit of negotiation, and a little bartering for WWW products, but Fred managed to get a nice little supply of wine and firewhisky for his parents, more than they could use in a year. He reckoned it would be an early anniversary present or something. He also arranged to have it delivered, which saved him the trouble of bringing anything back on a broomstick. He and Ginny made their way back through the village, and along the way he encouraged Ginny to look around a Muggle clothing store and insisted upon buying her a pair of sandals that she'd eyed longingly through the window. She put them on immediately, and, as she admired her feet, George marveled at how Ginny could hold her own with six brothers and still be such a girl.

"Thanks, George, I've really had a good morning, thanks to you."

"Same here, Gin," he said, and he meant it.

They walked for a while in silence. Finally, Ginny sighed, and said, "So, tell me something interesting, George."

"Hmmm…" George thought for a moment and finally said the thing on the forefront of his mind. "Mum is inviting the Lovegoods tonight."

Ginny looked surprised, but genuinely excited. "Really? That'd be cool. I like Luna."

"I know. That's one of the reasons I suggested it.

"One of?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.

He moved on, quickly. "And we have a new catalogue. It's really wicked."

"Cool. I want to see it."

He kept thinking and suddenly remembered…"Oh, and Lupin and Tonks are definitely shagging."

Ginny snorted, "Of course they are…wait, did you walk in on them?" Her eyes widened.

"No, I walked in on him making her breakfast in bed."

"Yeah, so?"

"Nearly starkers and carrying chocolate sauce." He paused, as a grin spread across his face. "Hey, you know what? I forgot to add _Tonks_ into that 'ideal woman' thing. It should have been Tonks' personality, not Fred's. And, of course, throw in that whole metamorph…"

She smacked the back of his head. "Oh, shut, it George. You blokes are so predictable."

"Hey, I said I liked her personality."

Ginny glared at him. "I bet you do. At least _Lupin_ wouldn't ask her to change."

"How d'you know that?" he asked.

"I just know," she grumbled.

"Odd couple, anyway," he observed. "He's so dull, and she's so…not."

"Some people are drawn to opposites sometimes. Like maybe the other person will make up for some quality they are lacking. And sometimes, you have no choice, really. You just…don't really have any choice in the matter. Your heart…No one else will do." Her eyes began to well up and she looked away.

George stopped and looked directly at her. "He'll be back, Gin. And when he does, _you'll_ be the first thing he'll go running to. He's got it bad for you. It's kind of pathetic to watch, really."

"Oh, shut up!" Ginny rolled her eyes and laughed wryly. After a while she looked at him with fear in her eyes. "How can you be so certain he will come back? You _must _have some idea what he's doing."

George put a hand on her shoulder in reassurance. "It doesn't matter. That kid has had a charmed life. It's almost like he's invincible, yeah?"

"What if his luck runs out?" Her voice had lowered to almost a whisper.

George gave her shoulder a squeeze, stating emphatically, "Then Ron'll protect him. And Hermione. And no matter how stupid our Ronnikins can be about girls and life in general, he's a quick thinker and has excellent instincts. Besides, Hermione is so brilliant she's scary. They won't go into any situation unprepared."

"I suppose not," Ginny conceded. After a pause she continued, "But George, what if he _doesn't_ come back? What if he decides to be all stupid and self sacrificing and gets himself…I just don't know if I could go on…"

"But _I_ know you could, because you're our little firecracker, Ginny. And if old U-No-Poo ever hurt your boyfriend, you would be the first in line to kick his scrawny white arse. And you could do it, too." George grinned reassuringly, but added, "But you better not get yourself hurt in the process, because you're too important to all of us."

She reached up to muss his hair. "Yeah, I love you too, George. I'm just…going mad out here. I _hate_ being left in the dark. I hate being apart from him. I miss him, terribly."

"I understand, Gin."

She muttered, "You have no clue, George."

"Yeah, Gin, I do." He laughed, shaking his head. "You're going to force me to admit it, but there was another reason I got Mum to ask the Lovegoods tonight. It's pretty pathetic when you can't stay away from someone for more than twenty-four hours."

It only took her a couple of seconds to catch on, and when she did, her mouth dropped open_. "George!" _

"Don't tell mum, okay? Hell, I'm sure she's gonna figure it out after about five minutes, anyway. Fred did."

Ginny shook her head in wonder. "She's got…two years of school left, George. What are you gonna do when she's away for all that time?"

"Dunno. Deal with it, I suppose. Develop patience, which has never been one of my strong suits. I'll look forward to Hogsmeade weekends like I'm fourteen all over again. Maybe I'll even apply for a job as Filch's assistant."

Ginny burst out in laughter at that one. "Ha! Who would have thought? My brother, the cradle-robber."

He tugged on her plait. "My sister, the _'Potter groupie.'"_

"Git." She nudged him again, as hard as she could manage, which had him stumbling into a low stone wall. "I really do like her, George."

"Good. So do I. Let's go back along the river and take our shoes off this time. I'll Disillusion both of us and we'll confuse the hell out of the Muggles."

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Fred arrived at the Burrow several hours later, and alone. George called him over to complete a two-on-two Quidditch game with Ginny and Tonks. Remus sat at a table, deep in conversation with Mad-Eye, but he always kept an eye on the game, with an expression of pride and amusement on his face. Arthur and Jack Lovegood eventually joined the two men, and then the conversation seemed to turn very serious very quickly. George kept an eye out for Luna, nearly compromising the game in the process, and he began to wonder if her father had come without her when she emerged from the kitchen with Molly, carrying a large bowl of strawberries. He waved, and immediately afterwards got smacked in the head by a Quaffle thrown by his twin, who shouted out, "Keep your mind on the game, you prat! We can't get beaten by a couple of _girls!"_

Their opponents considered Fred's remark as nothing less than a declaration of war, and began to play ruthlessly. The game was tied, 60-60, when Molly called them down to get ready for dinner, no longer willing to wait for Bill and Fleur, who arrived just moments later, flushed and out of breath.

The first thing that George did after jumping into the pond to cool off was to seek out Jack, who gave George all the credit for the dinner invitation and thanked him earnestly. He then looked for Luna, who he found sandwiched on a large garden swing between Fred and Ginny, looking overwhelmed. When she caught sight of George, she beamed.

"Hello, George," she said happily.

"Hey, Luna. Shove over, Fred." He nudged Fred's knee with his own.

Fred scowled, not budging at all. "Get your own chair," he said.

George countered, "Get your own girl!"

"Got one," Fred replied with a grin.

"Yeah, that I know…" George muttered, and then continued, in a breathless falsetto tone, "Ooh, 'Fred, baby!' Ever heard of a silencing spell?"

"Jealous?" Fred's grin turned more than a little cocky, but he reluctantly got off the swing, and plopped back down onto the ground near Ginny's feet.

"Not for a minute." George slid down next to Luna.

"He tried to pretend he was you," Ginny said to George.

"Did he?"

She added, "Luna didn't buy it for a second."

George looked at Luna, who was staring at her hands, crossed in her lap. He reached over and held one of them. "No, she wouldn't."

"How can you always tell, Luna?" Ginny asked her.

"Can't you?" asked Luna.

"Well, yeah, but I know them nearly as well as they know themselves, don't I?"

"Hmm," Luna replied. "Well, I just… know. In any case, George _would_ be the one who went and cleaned himself up after a game of Quidditch, wouldn't he? Fred would be willing to put it off for a bit in order to play a prank."

George grinned and said, "In other words, 'Fred baby,' you _smell."_

"Do not, you wanker!"

Ginny interrupted. "Yes, you do, Fred. And so do I. And so does Tonks, over there, but Remus doesn't seem to mind. However, you smell the worst, Fred." She turned to Luna. "It's the eyes, isn't it? Mum and I talked about it. George's eyes are a little softer."

Fred interrupted. "You calling my eyes hard, little girl?"

Ginny stuck her tongue out. "You _both _have an evil little gleam in them. But George's are just a bit softer." She looked from one twin to the other and asked, "So, who else can tell the difference?"

"Lee." Fred replied. "He told us it was because he has 'the Sight."

"But that's bollocks," George added. "He just knows which of us will stand on which side of him. Every time we switch it around on him he gets confused. Mad-Eye, however, can always tell."

"The eye, obviously." Fred said.

George remembered something from that very morning, and said, "And then there's Lupin, too."

"Werewolf senses," said Ginny. "You would _smell_ different to him."

"Also, he's a powerful Legilimens." Luna offered. They all turned to her. "He _is,"_ she said, with not a shred of doubt in her voice.

"Speaking of which, Dumbledore always could tell," said Fred. "But he knew everything, didn't he?"

"Except who to trust," George said bitterly.

"Time will tell," said Luna, staring off at the sky. All three of them looked at her quizzically, but she did not expound on her remark.

They didn't have time to discuss it much anyway, because shortly after that, Molly called them over to sit down, her eyes doing a double take at George and Luna. He realized that he was still holding her hand, and decided to keep holding it all the way to the table.

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After dinner, George managed to slip past the boisterous group sitting around the wireless, past the serious group sitting around the kitchen table and past the shrewd eyes of his mother in order to lead Luna into the garden. Once outside, he slid his arm around her waist as they walked.

"Missed you," he said.

Luna looked surprised. "Did you? You just saw me yesterday."

In answer, he only tightened his hold on her. "Did you have a good time last night?"

"Oh, it was…educational." She laughed slightly, shaking her head, and looked up at him. "Actually, it was rather dull. And I missed you too." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed the end of his nose, asking, "Why did your mother invite us to dinner? She hasn't, you know, in years."

"She said that your dad kept saying no. Finally she gave up."

Luna nodded seriously. "He was very depressed for a long time and wouldn't see other people. I wish she hadn't given up, though. It would have made things so much simpler."

"Simpler, how?"

She smiled. "I wouldn't have had to wait so long for you."

George felt that tightening in his gut again. She was absolutely guileless. "Were you waiting for me, Luna?"

"I think I've known that you were coming since I was…Well, since right after she died."

"Your mother?"

"Yes. She showed me things. And, although, I couldn't always identify them easily, now that I know what they mean, they make perfect sense."

He felt the hair at the back of his neck prickle. "What sorts of things? Like visions?"

"Sometimes. But they are not always easy to understand. I mean, I told Professor Trelawnley about my dreams and she tried to convince me they meant that I would be run over by a Muggle lorry, and spend five years in a vegetative state, waking up to find that the world had ended." She gave George a serious look, and he controlled the snort of laughter that threatened to come out of his nose. "I didn't believe her. But I told Professor Dumbledore about them, and he said that I was dreaming about love, and that it was a very important dream."

_Did she just say that she loved him?_ "And I'm in it?"

"I don't know for certain, but I have a pretty good idea."

"What happens in the dream?"

Luna laughed. "Oh, I couldn't tell you that. It would spoil the surprise. But I will tell you that it is a very nice dream, if only a little sad."

"Why sad?"

"I can't tell you. Of course, maybe I've already said too much. You probably think I'm a little mad--_loony,_ even--talking about visions and such, especially so soon. I may have jinxed it." She looked at him with eyes that seemed to beg him not disappoint her.

"I _don't _think you're loony." He pulled her close and kissed her with a great deal of pent-up emotion. "I don't think you're loony. I think you're…unique."

With a happy sigh, she rested her head on his shoulder. "So are you, George."

He grinned and tightened his arms around her. _Only Luna Lovegood would think that a twin was unique. _Which reminded him of their pre-dinner conversation. "Can I ask you something Luna?"

"Of course."

"What did you mean, before, about Dumbledore, and…Snape?" He practically spit out the last word.

"Did I say something about Professor Snape?" Her voice had taken on that far away tone that she sometimes got.

"Yeah, I think you did," he replied, staring at her intently.

"Hmm…" She pulled away from him and took him by the hand walking in the direction of the pond. After a while, she said, seemingly out of the blue, "I think that Professor Dumbledore must have been a very good chess player."

"Undoubtedly," George said slowly.

Luna continued, "I think that Professor Snape was also an expert chess player, too. Couldn't you just picture them playing weekly game, after dinner, in Dumbledore's office?"

George muttered, "That's an image that really pisses me off to consider, but yes…"

She sighed and looked out at the pond. "I don't really like chess, myself."

"No?" He watched her profile.

"It's a little too much like war," she said, softly.

"It is," he agreed. For some reason the hairs at the back of his neck began to prickle again.

"It always makes me very sad when I have to sacrifice my players." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, then looked up at the sky, watching the progress of a distant airplane. Eventually she turned back to face him, squeezing his hand. "I like poker, better. I'm very good at it, actually. No one ever expects me to win."

"I'll bet you're great."

"What's your favorite game, George?"

"Exploding Snap."

She smiled. "Of course it is. Are you going to kiss me again, before one of our parents comes out to look for us?"

Grinning, he did just that, again and again, until they broke apart, breathless, at the sound of the back door opening.

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George brought a stack of teacups and whisky glasses into the kitchen. "Great dinner, Mum."

Molly looked up. "Why, thank you, George, dear. I think it went well, actually. It's so nice to have Bill and Fleur back, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he said, filling the sink with water.

"What are you doing, George?"

He looked over his shoulder at Molly. "Helping, Mum."

"Oh, dear…why thank you, George!"

George felt a twinge of guilt that his mother would be so unused to his voluntary assistance. "Sit down, Mum, I'll take care of the dishes."

She protested, "Oh, I couldn't…"

"Sit, Mum. You work too hard."

Molly compromised by bringing the dessert plates to him. Her voice was somewhat wistful as she said; "I don't work hard at all, George, not anymore. You know, with just your father and Ginny."

Which probably meant she got to bed at ten, rather than midnight. He remembered getting up for a snack in the middle of the night only to find his mother, still doing laundry or mending. It always made him lose his appetite. "Yes you do, Mum. _Sit."_

She gave in completely and sat at the table, pouring herself a glass of wine. After a few moments, she said, "So, George, I don't know if I'm supposed to say anything yet, but…it looks like we have a new Order member."

George turned quickly. "Lovegood? I thought he wanted to wait."

Molly eyed his dripping hands but refrained from commenting on them. She said, "Well, your father and Tonks managed to convince him that his daughter would be much more safe at Hogwarts, even _without _Dumbledore, than at home. And then Remus convinced him that her future was too important to compromise due to his fears. Once they convinced him of those things, Remus and your father and I assured him that his daughter would be taken care of, should anything unexpected happen to him."

"You mean you and Dad would…" He gestured to the kitchen and the house at large.

"Well, actually, Remus was the first to insist that the Order would look out for her, but I made certain that Jack knew that Arthur and I would consider it our _personal_ responsibility as friends. And, of course, I didn't say anything, but I suspect that you would consider her _your_ personal responsibility even _after _she comes of age." She gave George a piercing look, making him completely flustered.

He waved his had dismissively. "Now Mum, don't read too much into tonight, I don't know what you think you saw…"

Molly just continued staring at him. "Oh, I _know _what I saw, young man. This entire conversation took place as I was making the coffee, looking out that very window."

George turned and looked out the window, only to see an unobstructed view of the pond. He grumbled. "I just kissed her, Mum."

Molly snorted. "That's not what I'm talking about, George. I knew there was something different about you even _before_ she arrived. And at dinner, Irealized what it was; I haven't seen anyone look like that since…"

"Ron and Hermione," muttered George.

Molly laughed merrily. "No, not quite. You couldn't look like Ron at your _most_ lovesick. I was actually thinking of your uncle…"

George turned abruptlyand his mother broke off, shaking her head and smiling sadly.

"Mum?" he proddedafter she had stared into space for a few moments.

Molly gathered her wits. "Oh, yes, your uncle Fabian. You resemble him, did I ever tell you that?"

"Yeah, you did, once or twice." he said.

"Anyway, this was when he brought Laura home for dinner, the very first time…"

"Laura?" George asked.

"Yes. They were going to be married. I really liked her. Well, actually, I didn't at first, didn't think she was good enough for my brother, but once I got to know her…" She smiled in reminiscence.

"What happened to her?"

"Oh, I'm not really sure. I lost touch with her after…" Molly shook her head. "Well, you know. We weren't close enough friends to get past it, really, and I leaned upon your father a lot at that time. It wasn't long after that we got married."

George decided to take advantage of her unexpectedly informative mood. "Luna's father said he knew them—your brothers, I mean."

"Oh, yes, he was one year below them at school." Molly seemed for a moment to morph into her teenage self, and George saw a wicked smile not unlike his own. "As a matter of fact, Jack and Gideon were after the same girl at one time."

George raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Oh, yes."

"So who got her?"

Molly's grin widened. "Jack did. It was Luna's mother, actually."

"_What?"_

She explained, "Well, his glasses weren't quite so thick, then. And he had more hair, naturally. It looked like they were very happy together, too. He was besotted with her, you wouldn't have recognized him."

George shook his head in wonder for a moment, and then frowned. "Too bad it turned out so badly for them, and for your family."

Molly sighed. "Yes indeed. But look at how blessed your father and I have been. That's what I try to keep focused on. Now, let's talk about you and Jack's daughter, George. How long has this been going on?"

Now that the dishes were charmed to wash themselves George had no excuse to keep his back turned on his mother. He sat down at the table and poured a glass of wine for himself. "Yeah, err, not long."

Molly kept her eyes fixed on him, waiting for him to elaborate. Finally she said, "Humph. You kids these days always jump into things so quickly. But you must promise me to be careful, George."

"Careful?" He made his voice as innocent as possible.

"That is a very young girl, and you are a grown man. You are in no position right now to rush into things, especially with a war on. She still has two years of school to finish, and from what her father says, she really cares about her education. So don't go ruining it for her." She waggled her index finger at him threateningly.

"Mum, I'm not even thinking about getting married at my age," George protested.

"You'd better not. But that is _not_ what I am talking about, actually. I want you to treat this girl with respect. So, don't you go charming her into anything she's not ready for, nor will she be for some time."

He rolled his eyes. "I get it, Mum."

"Good. So how are you going to manage while she's at school?"

"Huh?"

She looked at him pointedly. "Well, you couldn't even manage to eat dinner with your family without working out a way for her to be invited there. I'm wondering what's going to happen next month, when she returns to school and you won't see her for months at a time."

"I can manage it, Mum."

"How?" Molly persisted.

"I don't know...I'll write, and get up there for Hogsmeade weekends, and see a lot of her next summer."

"George..." she said with a sigh.

"What?"

"You were always my _worst _correspondent. Or, actually my worst co-correspondent, because you and Fred always wrote me a letter together." She pursed her lips in disapproval.

"What were we going to tell you about, Mum? Our pranks? Our mediocre marks?"

"Your marks were just fine until you got so obsessive about the idea of a joke shop."

"Good thing, too, wouldn't you say?"

"Don't change the subject, dear. If this Luna business is going to last…"

"It's going to last—it has to," George stated emphatically. "I want this more than I've ever—more than the joke shop, actually. I'll just have to get better at letters."

"And what happens when you get lonely?" Molly asked gently.

"I'll get a puppy."

She swatted his shoulder. "George, be serious, now. I've _seen_ the way girls are with you. _And_ the way you are around girls. What happens a few months from now, when you are missing her, and some customer, or some waitress, or barmaid, or for that matter some pretty new Order member comes along?"

George shook his head. "I wouldn't do that to her. She's had to put up with a lot of rejection in her life. She _expects_ the worst from people and just sort of takes it with a smile, never complaining. But when someone is kind to her, she just lights up like a Roman candle. So I'm going to be the one person who doesn't let her down. And with a little more self-confidence, I suspect she may just amaze the world. Anyway, I'm fairly certain that she loves me, and I'm pretty sure I love her, so I couldn't hurt her that way."

"Oh, George…" Molly had tears in her eyes.

George reached over to pat her hand. "Don't worry about it Mum. You're not saying anything I haven't already thought of and worried about. Believe it or not, I can take things seriously, at least occasionally."

"Oh, I know that, dear. I just... I suppose I didn't expect all of my children to get attached so early in life. You're all heart, every one of you," she sniffled.

"Yeah, well, maybe we're just following your and Dad's examples. Anyway, Mum, cheer up: Charlie seems content to play the swinging bachelor, and with Percy, you're guaranteed to have a middle-aged virgin left over!"

"_George!"_ She shook her head, trying to look stern and failing spectacularly. "I have to tell you, even though I think you have made an _odd _choice, I don't think it's a bad one. I like her, she's…"

"Special," George interrupted. He picked up his wineglass, intending to head back into the living room, find Fred, and head home. He turned back at the doorway. "And I really _didn't _have any choice, Mum."

Molly smiled and said gently, "You never do, dear."

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Lying in his bed that night, listening to Fred's light snores, George thought over the events of the day. It occurred to him that it had been somewhat of a turning point for him. Little by little, without even being aware of every small step he had taken, George had enfolded Luna into his present life and his future. First of all, as someone who spent most of his life seemingly carrying an 'If you don't like it you can stuff it,' sign on his forehead, he was genuinely surprised to discover that obtaining Fred's and Ginny's and his mum's approval of Luna really mattered to him.

However, it also occurred to him that Luna already meant so much to him that he had been willing to face opposition from all of them, including Fred. And _that_ was something really remarkable. It signified the start of a new way of life for him and Fred, one which really begun tomake itselfvisible at Bill's wedding. They were growing up, and growing apart in ways that would be barely noticeable to others, but monumental to themselves.

Some time in the not-so-distant future, each of them would have a family of their own. They would live apart. Days like today, where they spent hours apart, would start to be the rule rather than the exception. Conversations like the ones he had participated in today, where it was just George and another person, with no Fred in sight, would soon be so common that he wouldn't even notice the difference. To George, the prospect was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

Fred would no longer be the person that George focused on the most; nor would George be the primary focus of Fred. They would always be the closest of brothers, the best of friends, but no longer the person in the top slot--someone else would replace them. And once kids arrived, the position would slip further. George had never really stopped to think about it before.

Somehow, he knew, though, that Luna had already become the first person he wanted to talk to about what was on his mind. Hers would be the first face he now looked for in a crowd. She would be the first person he looked for after a battle, for that matter. (Though the near certainty that he and Fred would be fighting side-by-side made this rather a moot point.) And what would he do if it came down-- in a battle--to a choice between Luna and Fred? What would Fred do if he had to choose between Angelina and George? _That's not the kind of thing you want to be thinking about if you want to get any sleep tonight, Weasley. _

Tonight had been a turning point in another way, too. Luna would be in the Order someday. While her loyalties in the war had been clear the moment she set foot in The Hog's Head nearly two years ago, it was comforting to realize that both they and their families would be working together. He didn't have to keep anything secret from her, either. They could talk about anything, and judging by the things they had discussed so far, especially earlier in the evening, he was going to be fascinated by what she had to say. She would be a good addition to the Order, with her razor-sharp observation and remarkable ingenuity. And the Order meetings had become deadly dull since Dumbledore…went. Luna and Jack would provide a little sadly-missed absurdity to the proceedings

He tried not to dwell to long on the dangers she would face. She had already put herself in harm's way. The Order was the safest option for them. He tucked his fears in the back of his mind, which was already crowded with fear for his family members.

He also tucked away worry that he was incapable of sustaining a two-year long distance relationship. He _had_ to, because he had no choice, really; it was too important. And besides, who knew how to sneak in and out of the castle better than him? He bet that Fred would even help him manage it, especially if an opportunity to torture Filch came along with it.

He tucked away worry about his youngest brother, and whether that scrawny kid that was with him was capable of saving the world. He tucked away fear that the shop would fail spectacularly, forcing him to sit behind a desk all day like Percy. He tucked away fear for Percy-- that something terrible would happen to 'old Bighead' before George got a chance to welcome him back into the family as a brother.

Once all of his fears and worries were tucked away, George thought some more.

He thought about the look on Fleur's face when Fred revealed the punch line to that dirty joke that Lee had told him. He thought about the look on Tonks' face when they slipped one of those Muggle 'whoopie cushions' on her chair just before dinner. He thought about his father's face when he absentmindedly picked up his wand to light the lanterns and it turned into a rubber flobberworm. He thought about Luna's face when Ginny told Tonks about Luna's brief but brilliant Quidditch commentator career.

What was the point of all the drama, if you didn't get a few laughs out of it? And Fred apparently agreed, because he was laughing in his sleep. George went to sleep with a smile on his face.

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**_The End_**

_**A/N: Epilogue to follow** **soon**_

**_Please let me know what you think!_**


	5. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Luna Lovegood was not nervous. She didn't get nervous very often actually. She thought she might have felt a little nervous when she was taking her practical N.E.W.T.s in Arithmancy, her toughest subject. She remembered that she had felt a little nervous on her first day at Hogwarts, while stepping up to the Sorting Hat. But Ginny had been standing next to her on that occasion, and had squeezed her hand in reassurance. She recalled that she had wished fervently that she would be sorted into Ginny's house, because Ginny had been the first friend Luna had ever made of her own age, but it didn't work out that way. So it had been right to feel nervous. That day had been the first day of long years of loneliness.

Oddly enough, she had not been the least bit nervous during any of the four battles she had participated in. She knew that death was nothing to fear, and probably (more importantly) she had known in her heart that it was her destiny to be _here,_ like this, today. Since this day hadn't happened as of the beginning any of those battles, she had always felt fairly confident of her survival.

When Luna had talked to Harry, several years before, about 'the dead never really leaving', he had probably taken a figurative interpretation away with him. And that was probably a good thing, because Harry had always had far too many people watching him, for varied reasons, and might not have liked the idea of countless dead people looking over his shoulder, too. But Luna could feel the presence of dozens of dead loved ones all around her, particularly her mother, who was always nearby.

Her mother had actually given her this moment as a recurring dream years ago. A little blurry perhaps, and always ending just before she could get a good look at the man at the end of the aisle, but clear enough to understand. Luna was absolutely certain that when she opened the door and stepped into the garden that there would be clematis climbing the iron trellis to her left and that the aisle, which was really just a crooked garden path made of flagstones, would be bordered with small bunches of violets. She knew also that wisteria would hang from the arbor at the end of the aisle.

But more than anything she could picture the dozens of smiling well-wishers that would be turned in her direction. She also knew that amongst the happy sunlit faces would be others, not noticeable to the naked eye, but just as emotionally invested in the proceedings. Her mother would be there, of course, standing next to her father. The three missing Weasleys would again stand proudly with the rest of family. George's uncles would be there, too, for they had kept their eyes on him since birth, always encouraging, prodding, and whispering wicked suggestions into his ear. Former teachers and comrades would also be there, smiling their approval.

As a lonely teenager, Luna had wondered at the sheer number of people in her vision that would turn to her with affection and excitement. The idea that that so many people could ever care about her had seemed preposterous. But now she recognized it as a precious gift from her mother. A new family - loud, boisterous and loving - to make up for the one she lost so early in life. And there they all would be, with their lovely bright hair and eyes and their warm hearts, welcoming her as one of their own.

And _friends,_ too, dear friends, more friends than she could easily count, something that she could have done with just one hand not five years before. She doubted that she'd ever hear the name 'Loony Lovegood' again, and not just because 'Loony' just didn't sound as funny with 'Weasley' as it did with 'Lovegood.' She suspected that the hated nickname might make an appearance in the history books, one of which was already being written by her soon to be sister-in-law. But in that context, the name wouldn't bother her as much as it used to. Maybe it would help other lonely children realize that they were not doomed to spend their life feeling alienated, and that some day, they could have true friends without suppressing their individuality. These people outside _valued _Luna's thoughts and opinions even when they didn't always understand them or agree with them.

Her mother had given her another gift the night before, a vision of the future, of the tiny life that was just beginning to grow inside of her. This child would be the last female Weasley for the next two generations and the only child Luna would have. But her daughter would also be brilliant, kind, beloved by many and eager to carry on her grandmother's experiments, bringing at least two of them of them to a successful conclusion.

Luna could see her daughter's childhood spread out before her, surrounded by cousins, aunts and uncles, but with an uncanny and fierce bond to Fred's son, her closest cousin. They would be tempted by the reputation of their famous fathers to spend their school years focused on troublemaking and fun, but in the end, they would make their own marks on the school, through sports, study, and talent.

Luna felt a depth of gratitude to her mother, for loving her so completely in the short time they had together, and for guiding her after death to the man whocould seeher and love her for who she really was. George had become her closest friend, her gallant knight, a salve for her wounds, a cheerful fire in a dark, cold place. And best of all, he needed her, for many of the same reasons.

Luna knew, without any false conceit, that George would never have pulled through the pain of the last few months without her.

Luna also knew better than to tell anyone other than George about her visions of the future, because he was probably the only person on earth that would believe her. The night before, when she had finally told him the details of her childhood dream, there had not even been a moment of awkward skepticism. He remembered her mention of the dream years before, and was glad she had waited to so long to tell him. He reckoned that he would have hated knowing about his losses before they happened, even if it meant assurance that he had a long future to look forward to.

They talked for a long time after that -- about what they had accomplished together, about the pain they had suffered and the sacrifices they had been forced to make. Both their triumphs and their sacrifices had changed both of them fundamentally. Some of these differences were a direct result of the influence they had on each other, and they would not have changed those things at all. But much of it had to do with the war, and the grief and guilt and anger that were an unfortunate by-product even of the winning side. George had lost some of his manic high-spiritedness. He was more serious, and his laughter did not always reach his eyes. Luna, on the other hand, was no longer able to retreat into apparent obliviousness when things became painful. George had taught her to live, to grasp for what she wanted and not to calmly let people take advantage of her.

Her mind journeyed back to a summer day, very much like this one, during which another wedding was taking place. Luna had been well aware that she had been invited purely as a neighborly gesture, but could not resist the chance to socialize with a group of people who had some idea who she was and who had been kind to her on occasion. By the end of the evening, however, Luna had managed to capture the attention of the boy who had been often on her mind since the first Potions class of her fifth year, when she had approached a cauldron of Amortentia and smelled newspaper ink, daisies, and gunpowder.

Many of the same guests would be there when she opened the door today, but they would no longer be strangers and acquaintances. They would be dear friends, family, and the love of her life. Her once cavernous heart was filled to bursting with them.

No, Luna was not nervous. Any other bride would have been anxiously arranging the gauzy silver skirt of her gown, and repeatedly fussing over the hair that flowed freely down her back, woven throughout with fragrant white stephanotis. There was nothing to be nervous about. The worst of the pain was behind her. Through the door was nothing but love. Through the door was home.

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_**Well, this is it. This story has really meant a lot to me, and the positive response has made it a truly wonderful experience. I spent the afternoon typing down the names of each and every one who took the time to review in order to list them on this story, but every time I try to upload them, I get kicked off the internet. Rest assured, I am very grateful.**_

_**I do not plan a sequel for this story. I have an idea for a sensual outtake, which will proably get written but possibly not posted here. Check my livejournal occasionally and you may see it. I will warn you, that if I do the outtake, the losses hinted at here will be dealt with in more detail, so multiple beloved character deaths will be mentioned.**_

_**If you have been converted to this ship, I am happy to be partially responsible for it, and can only request that you go forth and fill the internet with more George/Luna fic, or more Georgefic, or more Lunafic, for there is far too little to be found.**_

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_**There is a GeorgeLuna community on livejournal that posts fics featuring our couple. LadyTory has written a delightful story on there called Elements. I can't post a link, but I do recommend that you look for it.**_

_**Thanks all,**_

**Amy**


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